Far in the forest's heart, unknown, Except to sun and breeze, Where solitude her dreaming throne Has held for centuries; Chronicled by the rings and moss That tell the flight of years across The seamed and columned trees, This lovely streamlet glides along With tribute of eternal song!
Now, stealing through its thickets deep In which the wood-duck hides, Now, picturing in its basin sleep Its green pool-hollowed sides, Here, through the pebbles slow it creeps, There, 'mid some wild abyss it sweeps, And foaming, hoarsely chides; Then slides so still, its gentle swell Scarce ripples round the lily's bell.
Nature, in her autumnal dress Magnificent and gay, Displays her mantled gorgeousness To hide the near decay, Which, borne on Winter's courier breath, Warns the old year prepare for death, When, tottering, seared, and gray, Ice-fettered, it will sink below The choking winding-sheet of snow.
A blaze of splendour is around, As wondrous and as bright As that, within the fairy ground, Which met Aladdin's sight. The sky, a sheet of silvery sheen With breaks of tenderest blue between, As though the summer light Was melting through, once more to cast A glance of gladness ere it passed.
The south-west airs of ladened balm Come breathing sweetly by, And wake amid the forest's calm One quick and shivering sigh, Shaking, but dimpling not the glass Of this smooth streamlet, as they pass— They scarcely wheel on high The thistle's downy, silver star, To waft its pendent seed afar.
Dream-like the silence, only woke By the grasshopper's glee, And now and then the lazy stroke Of woodcock [K] on the tree: And mingling with the insect hum, The beatings of the partridge drum, With frequently a bee Darting its music, and the crow Harsh cawing from the swamp below.
A foliage world of glittering dyes Gleams brightly on the air, As though a thousand sunset skies, With rainbows, blended there; Each leaf an opal, and each tree A bower of varied brilliancy, And all one general glare Of glory, that o'erwhelms the sight With dazzling and unequalled light.
Rich gold with gorgeous crimson, here The birch and maple twine, The beech its orange mingles near With emerald of the pine; And e'en the humble bush and herb Are glowing with those tints superb, As though a scattered mine Of gems, upon the earth were strewn, Flashing with radiance, each its own.
All steeped in that delicious charm Peculiar to our land, Glimmering in mist, rich, purple, warm, When Indian Summer's hand Has filled the valley with its smoke, And wrapped the mountain in its cloak, While, timidly and bland, The sunbeams struggle from the sky, And in long lines of silver lie.
The squirrel chatters merrily, The nut falls ripe and brown, And gem-like from the jewelled tree The leaf comes fluttering down; And restless in his plumage gay, From bush to bush loud screams the jay, While on the hemlock's crown The sentry pigeon guards from foes The flock that dots the neighbouring boughs.