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320 ANN S. STEPHENS. When a cool and lulling melody Fell from the dripping eaves, And soft warm drops came pattering Upon the restless leaves. But, oh, the scene was glorious When clouds were lightly riven, And there, above my valley home, Came out the bow of heaven; And, in its fitful brilliancy Hung quivering on high, Like a jewell'd arch of paradise Reflected through the sky. I am thinking of the footpath My constant visits made, Between the dear old homestead And that leafy apple shade; Where the flow of distant waters Came with a tinkling sound, Like the revels of a fairy band, Beneath the fragrant ground. I haunted it at even-tide, And dreamily would lie And watch the crimson twilight Come stealing o'er the sky. 'T was sweet to see its dying gold Wake up the dusky leaves, To hear the swallows twittering Beneath the distant eaves. I have listen'd to the music, A low sweet minstrelsy, Breathed by a lonely night-bird That haunted that old tree, ANN S. STEPHENS. 321 Till my heart has swell'd with feelings For which it had no name, A yearning love for poesy, A thirsting after fame. I have gazed up through the foliage With dim and tearful eyes, And with a holy reverence Dwelt on the changing skies, Till the burning stars were peopled With forms of spirit-birth, And I've almost heard their harp-strings Reverberate on earth. SONG. LET me perish in the early spring, When thickets all are green; When rosy buds are blossoming Amid their tender sheen; When the raindrops and the sunshine Lie sleeping in the leaves; And swallows haunt the thrifty vine, That drapes the cottage eaves. Let me perish in the early spring, The childhood of the year; I would not have a gloomy thing Pass o'er my humble bier; For when a broken heart gives way, In such a world as ours, 'Tis well to let the humble clay Pass gently with the flowers. V
Transcription Notes:
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Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 12:57:13
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Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 13:10:20