Looked in upon “my hiding place.”
“The tangled cane-brake, where I crept
For shelter from the heat of noon,
And where, while others toiled, I slept,
Till wakened by the rising moon,
As its stalks felt the night wind free,
Gave me to catch a glimpse of thee.
“Star of the North! in bright array
The constellations round thee sweep,
Each holding on its nightly way,