LINES TO SHARON SPRINGS.
FAIR Sharon! do your mountain arms contain
Room for another child who longs for thee?
And is there still an antidote for pain
In your clear streams? And are they gushing free
For all the feeble wanderers of the earth
Who choose to come and try their healing power?
And wasting forms who know their fame and worth,—
Do they still gather round them every hour?
Room for another child who longs for thee?
And is there still an antidote for pain
In your clear streams? And are they gushing free
For all the feeble wanderers of the earth
Who choose to come and try their healing power?
And wasting forms who know their fame and worth,—
Do they still gather round them every hour?
If so, receive me; for I fain would lay
My weary head upon your soothing breast;
Your gurgling waters now may charm away,
Or lull my ills and sorrows all to rest;
Your scenes again how much I'd joy to greet—
There list to nature's voice forever new,
Your birds and bees, that sip the nectar sweet
From blooming fields and echoing forests too.
My weary head upon your soothing breast;
Your gurgling waters now may charm away,
Or lull my ills and sorrows all to rest;
Your scenes again how much I'd joy to greet—
There list to nature's voice forever new,
Your birds and bees, that sip the nectar sweet
From blooming fields and echoing forests too.
Can health-imbuing breezes fan your brow,
So sheltered by rich canopies of green?
Methinks I see your wooded windings now,
And vein-like paths, where vistas intervene.
So sheltered by rich canopies of green?
Methinks I see your wooded windings now,
And vein-like paths, where vistas intervene.
