III.

Thought I was in a forest—a bright, a green, a glorious forest. My heart ached, and I had turned from the heated world and its miseries, and where the lofty branches had intertwined and woven a pleasant twilight dwelling place, I sat me down to meditate. Then I scribbled and scribbled—and thus, I scribbled—

This is indeed a sacred solitude,

And beautiful as sacred. Here no sound

Save such as breathes a soft tranquillity,

Falls on the ear; and all around, the eye

Meets nought but hath a moral. These deep shades—

With here and there an upright trunk of ash

Or beech or nut, whose branches interlaced

O’ercanopy us, and, shutting out the day,

A twilight make—they press upon the heart

With force amazing and unutterable.

These trunks enormous, from the mountain side

Ripp’d roots and all by whirlwinds—those vast pines

Athwart the ravine’s melancholy gloom

Transversely cast—these monarchs of the wood,

Dark, gnarl’d, centennial oaks that throw their arms

So proudly up—those monstrous ribs of rock

That, shiver’d by the thunder-stroke, and hurl’d

From yonder cliff, their bed for centuries,

Here crush’d and wedged—all by their massiveness

And silent strength, impress us with a sense

Of Deity. And here are wanted not

More delicate forms of beauty. Numerous tribes

Of natural flowers do blossom in these shades,

Meet for the scene alone. At ev’ry step,

Some beauteous combination of soft hues,

Less brilliant though than those which deck the fields,

The eye attracts. Mosses of softest green,

Creep round the trunks of the decayed trees;

And mosses, hueless as the mountain snow,

Inlay the turf. Here, softly peeping forth,

The eye detects the little violet

Such as the city boasts—of paler hue,

But fragrant more. The simple forest flower,

And that pale gem the wind flower, falsely named,

Here greet the cautious search—less beautiful

Than poets feign, though lovely to the eye.

These with their modest forms so delicate,

And breath of perfume, send th’ unwilling heart

And all its aspirations, to the source

Of Life and Light. Nor woodland sounds are wanting,

Such as the mind to that soft melancholy

The poet feels, lull soothingly. The winds

Are playing with the forest tops in glee,

And music make. Sweet rivulets

Slip here and there from out the crevices

Of rifled rocks, and, welling ’mid the roots

Of prostrate trees or blocks transversely east,

Form jets of driven snow. Soft symphonies

Of birds unseen, on ev’ry side swell out,

As if the spirit of the wood complain’d

Harmonious, and most prodigal of sound;

And these can woo the spirit with such power,

And tune it to a mood so exquisite—

That the enthusiast heart forgets the world,

Its strifes, and follies—and seeks only here

To satisfy its thirst for happiness.