Page:Poems Whitney.djvu/64

Awakes upon some softly-bosomed night,
 Came forth: no evil taint her path might mar;
The May winds breathed about her their delight;
 The heavens spread, broad and calm, they looked not far;
With all their depth, their old, mysterious birth,
They seemed to be the feeling of the earth.

Along the valley, green, and warm, and soft,
 A fresh-leaved myrtle-branch in hand, she went;
Mildly the sober people of the croft
 Gazed after her; the little skylark lent
A soul to the embracing blue, and soon aloft
 The antique wood leaned over her, attent,
And dropped its pictured glooms upon her fair,
White-gleaming vesture and her shining hair.

What thoughts her angel steps accompanied!
 Grave legends, fragrant of the olden time;