THE TERRACE AT BERNE
Ten years!—and to my waking eye
Once more the roofs of Berne appear;
The rocky banks, the terrace high,
The stream—and do I linger here?
The clouds are on the Oberland,5
The Jungfrau snows look faint and far;
But bright are those green fields at hand,
And through those fields comes down the Aar,
And from the blue twin lakes it comes,
Flows by the town, the church-yard fair,10
And 'neath the garden-walk it hums,
The house—and is my Marguerite there?
M. Arnold.