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r dark and still, The atoms trampled by my feet There wait, to take the place I fill In the sweet air and sunshine sweet. Well, I have had my turn, have been Raised from the darkness of the clod, And for a glorious moment seen The brightness of the skirts of God; And knew the light within my breast, Though wavering oftentimes and dim, The power, the will, that never rest, And cannot die, were all from him. Dear child! I know that thou wilt grieve To see me taken from thy love, Wilt seek my grave at Sabbath eve And weep, and scatter flowers above. Thy little heart will soon be healed, And being shall be bliss, till thou To younger forms of life must yield The place thou fill'st with beauty now. When we descend to dust again, Where will the final dwelling be Of thought and all its memories then, My love for thee, and thine for me? "EARTH'S CHILDREN CLEAVE TO EARTH." Earth's children cleave to Earth--her frail Decaying children dread decay. Yon wreath of mist that leaves the vale And lessens in the morning ray-- Look, how, by mountain rivulet, It lingers as it upward creeps, And clings to fern and copsewood set Along the green and dewy steeps: Clings to the flowery kalmia, clings To precipices fringed with grass, Dark maples where the wood-thrush sings, And bowers of fragrant sassafras. Yet all in vain--it passes still From hold to hold, it cannot stay, And in the very beams that fill The world with glory, wastes away, Till, parting from the mountain's brow, It vanishes from human eye, And that which sprung of earth is now A portion of the glorious sky. THE HUNTER'S VISION. Upon a rock that, high and sheer, Rose from the mountain's breast, A weary hunter of the deer Had sat him down to rest, And bared to the soft summer air His hot red brow and sweaty hair. All dim in haze the mountains lay, With dimmer vales between; And rivers glimmered on their way By forests faintly seen; While ever rose a murmuring sound From brooks below and bees around. He listened, till he seemed to hear A strain, so soft and low, That whether in the mind or ear The listener scarce might know. With such a tone, so sweet, so mild, The watching mother lulls her child. "Thou weary huntsman," thus it said,
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