The longest treasured, and most oft recall’d,
And brightest kept, of love;—a mountain-home,
That, with the murmur of its rocking pines,
And sounding waters, first in childhood’s heart
Wakes the deep sense of nature unto joy,
And half-unconscious prayer;—a Grecian home,
With the transparence of blue skies o’erhung,
And, through the dimness of its olive shades,
Catching the flash of fountains, and the gleam
Of shining pillars from the fanes of old.