Upon a rock; where hope sinks as it soars,
Like a lark wounded in its morning flight.—
Our home should be amid the wilderness;
The leaves, flowers, clouds, echoes and singing birds
To us should be companions and dear friends;
And we would pair together like two doves,—
Our nest of happiness a solitude!"—
—The dream grew a reality;—they fled
O'er the Atlantic's mighty boundary,—
That stormy barrier of a parted earth;—
And in the woods they made themselves a home,
Each one the other's world! and, with them, dwelt
A circle of sweet feelings—peace, content,
And gentle hopes reposing on themselves,
Quiet but deep affection, and the health
That dwells but in the pure air of the fields.—
What though no train waited to catch the eye,
Ere the lip spoke its bidding! though no halls
Were filled with crowds that waited on their state!
Yet had they more than all that fortune gives;
For, there was nature's utmost luxury,
And theirs the happiness of heart and home
Lighted by love!
