The Traveler's Return - An 1827 Poem
By J.H.B.
- I stood upon a pleasant hill, with summer verdure crowned,
- And tall old trees, the giant kings of nature, stood around;
- A lovely vale before me lay, and on the golden air,
- Crept the blue smokes in quiet trains from roof's that clustered there.
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- I saw where in my early years I passed the pleasant hours,
- Beside the winding brook that still went prattling to its flowers;
- And still around my parent's home the slender poplars grew,
- Whose glossy leaves were swayed and turned by every wind that blew.
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- The clover, with its heavy bloom, was tossing in the gale,
- And the tall crowfoot's golden stars, still sprinkled all the vale,
- And the fragrant bloom of orchard ground, and woodland foliage nigh,
- Broke with their freshest beauty yet, upon the startled eye.
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- The wild vine, in the woody glen, swung o'er the sounding brook,
- And the red robin and the wren chirped gaily in their nook;
- I saw the clouds on crimson wings float softly through the sky,
- When evening's blush came o'er the hills where beechen forests lie.
- All there are what they were when last these pleasant hills I ranged,
- But the faces that I knew before, by time and toll are changed,
- Where youth and bloom were on the cheek, and gladness on the brow,
- I only see the marks of care, and pain, and sorrow now.
September 15, 1827. Providence Patriot and Columbian Phenix 25(74): 1. From the U.S. Review and Literary Gazette.