The woody twilight, there man’s heart hath still
Confess’d a spirit’s breath, and heard a ceaseless hymn.
ON READING PAUL AND VIRGINIA IN CHILDHOOD.
O gentle story of the Indian isle!
I loved thee in my lonely childhood well
On the sea-shore, when day’s last, purple smile
Slept on the waters, and their hollow swell
And dying cadence lent a deeper spell
Unto thine ocean-pictures. Midst thy palms
And strange bright birds, my fancy joy’d to dwell,