The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 42, Page 17
XII.
The Same
And ye are strong to shelter! all meek things,
All that need home and covert, love your shade:
Birds of shy song, and low-voiced quiet springs,
And stealthy violets, by the winds betrayed.
Childhood beneath your fresh green tents hath played
With his first primrose-wealth; there Love hath sought
A veiling gloom for his unuttered thought,
And silent grief, of day's keen glance afraid,
A refuge for his tears; and oft-times there
Hath lone devotion found a place of prayer,
A native temple, solemn, hushed, and dim;
For wheresoe'er your murmuring tremors thrill
The woody twilight, there man's heart hath still
Confessed a spirit's breath, and heard a ceaseless hymn.