No discord here my spirit jars,
No artful smile my comfort mars,
For Nature's self is true;
Here beauty, grace, and peace conspire
To make my inmost soul desire
Some heart with kindred view.
Who dwells in such companionship,
Builds fountains whence the soul may sip
Heaven's sweetest gift to man,
Sees beauty reign as God designed,
Has purer love for all mankind,
And lives near Nature's plan.
Loved mountain brook, so pure, so true,
I'd rather spend an hour with you,
And harmonize my soul
With the sweet melodies you sing,
With all the joy your concerts bring,
That sit where flowing bowl
And jocund laugh of merry crowd
In accents wild, profane, and loud,
Break on the midnight air;
For you bring peace and joy and rest,
Refreshment for a mind distressed,
And banish grief and care.
When I shall sleep my final sleep,
Fain would I rest where you will keep
A tuneful voice for me;
Then to my spirit will be given
The foretaste of a promised heaven—
Nature's sweet harmony.
TO A MOUNTAIN BROOK.
Shy sylvan spirit singing so sweetly,
Dancing to measures that flow with your song
Frolic your fairy feet faultlessly, fleetly,
As down the mountain vale haste you along.
Babbling buoyantly by banks and bushes,
Laughingly onward you speed to the sea,
While from your mossy sides, joyously gushes
Fountains from Nature's bowl, healthful and free.
Naiads and Nymphs hold revels at midnight,
Dancing to music that swells from your flow;
Dryad and Faun peep out at the moonlight,
Thro' rents in green curtains that over you grow.