But if I could turn from the long de- Ah me! should I paint the morrows Then, while the grasshopper sung out All our atoms are changed, they shrill In the grass beneath the blanching say; And the taste is so different since thistle, then: live, but a world has passed away, With the years that perished to make us men. On a crag I sat me down. Then she sang me mountain songs, And when eve came on at length, And near unto her father's house I said "Good night!" with sorrow, And inly wished that I might say, "We'll meet again to-morrow. I watched her tripping to her home; I saw her meet her mother; Among a thousand maids," I cried, "There is not such another!" 66 I wandered to my scholar's home, I laid me down upon my bed, My heart with sadness laden; I dreamed but of the mountain world, And of the mountain maiden. I saw her of the ancient book And dark eyes drooping lowly. The dream was like the day's delight, To none I told my secret thoughts, I got me to the hills again; And there young Tibbie Inglis sat, Seemed it pitiful he should sit there. I have tottered here to look once "Here's a fool!" more! "All the picture now to me how dear! E'en this gray old rock where I am Is a jewel worth my journey here; It was summer, and we went to All the picture now to me how dear! school. Would not stay, "Old stone school-house! - it is still the same! There's the very step I so oft mounted; There's the window creaking in its frame, And the notches that I cut and When the stranger seemed to mark Old stone school-house! - it is still One sweet spirit broke the silent In the cottage yonder, I was born. |