O'er rock and rift, from height to height.
The tangled sea-grass, coarse and dank,
Is lost in flowery meadows bright ;
No more a gray horizon blank,
But fringing forests, bound his sight.
The turbid channel's bitter stream
Hath vanished in that happy dream,
And lo, before the wanderer's soul
Sweet floods of living crystal roll,
And laughing cataracts madly leap;
Girt with a rainbow, down the steep.
From crag to crag — such as with joy
To fulness blessed him, when a boy. —
That boyhood, with its dear delights.
The days half labor and half play,
The fireside full that crowned the nights —
The starting tear he cannot stay,
So plain he sees the loving forms
That blessed him, when he turned away
To seek this cheerless isle of storms.
Seite:Marsh Wolfe of the knoll.djvu/47
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