Poems

by Samuel G. Goodrich

	And 'mid the awful stillness Of their grave, The forest oaks have flourished— And the breath Of years hath swept their races, Wave on wave, As ages fainted On the shores of death. The tumbling cliff perchance Hath thundered deep, Like a rough note Of music in the song Of centuries, and the whirlwind's Crushing sweep, Hath ploughed the forest With its furrows strong.

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POEMS

BY S.G. GOODRICH

NEW-YORK:

G.P. PUTNAM, 155 BROADWAY

1851.

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	LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

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