THE FOREST REVERIE’Tis said that whenThe hands of menTamed this primeval wood,And hoary trees with groans of woe,Like warriors by an unknown foe,Were in their strength subdued,The virgin Earth Gave instant birthTo springs that ne’er did flowThat in the sun Did rivulets run,And all around rare flowers did blowThe wild rose pale Perfumed the galeAnd the queenly lily adown the dale(Whom the sun and the dewAnd the winds did woo),With the gourd and the grape luxuriant grew.So when in tearsThe love of yearsIs wasted like the snow,And the fine fibrils of its lifeBy the rude wrong of instant strifeAre broken at a blowWithin the heartDo springs upstartOf which it doth now know,And strange, sweet dreams,Like silent streamsThat from new fountains overflow,With the earlier tideOf rivers glideDeep in the heart whose hope has died—Quenching the fires its ashes hide,—Its ashes, whence will spring and growSweet flowers, ere long,The rare and radiant flowers of song!
’Tis said that whenThe hands of menTamed this primeval wood,And hoary trees with groans of woe,Like warriors by an unknown foe,Were in their strength subdued,The virgin Earth Gave instant birthTo springs that ne’er did flowThat in the sun Did rivulets run,And all around rare flowers did blowThe wild rose pale Perfumed the galeAnd the queenly lily adown the dale(Whom the sun and the dewAnd the winds did woo),With the gourd and the grape luxuriant grew.So when in tearsThe love of yearsIs wasted like the snow,And the fine fibrils of its lifeBy the rude wrong of instant strifeAre broken at a blowWithin the heartDo springs upstartOf which it doth now know,And strange, sweet dreams,Like silent streamsThat from new fountains overflow,With the earlier tideOf rivers glideDeep in the heart whose hope has died—Quenching the fires its ashes hide,—Its ashes, whence will spring and growSweet flowers, ere long,The rare and radiant flowers of song!