O WHO would not wander where nature combines To render so lovely that River of Pines? Till the heart there expands with rapture, delight, As mine on a beautiful midsummer's night: Ah, while these communings so sweet I review, While mystical scenes shine with splendor anew, I'd tell of a picture that memory entwines With the banks of yon beautiful River of Pines.
The fragrance of leaf, the perfume of flower, In soft breezes mingled, that star-lighted hour, And came in low whispers through forest trees tall, And distant, the murmuring, musical fall; There, rushing and foaming, their waters below From fountains exhaustless forever they flow; The wild wood was mirrored, and clustering vines, Festooning the banks of yon River of Pines.
Through vistas of beauty, the landscape so still Beyond did my dreams of enchantment fulfill; No fairer of Eden has poet e'er sung, No fairer did Milton e'er revel among: A spell seemed to reign over earth and through skies No language can paint, but the spirit replies To the beauty of day, when its glory declines, Crimsoning the waves of this River of Pines.
While pausing, enraptured, by slope and by steep, I yielded my ear to thoughts chastened and deep; From genius and worth, from a well-cultured mind, All nature so hushed seems to worship inclined; A voice,—aye, allow me to whisper the whole, Each syllable thrilled with power to my soul,— The echo vibrates those electrical lines, From eloquent lips, by that River of Pines.
Those snatches were brief, yet they fell on the ear In tones unimpassioned, pathetic, and clear; Some chords that were touched with deep sorrow were strung,: From others what marvelous melody rung: Ah, why attempt to portray or compare, While music defies, with its colorings rare; When matchless the hues my ideal enshrines, 'Of minstrel and song, by this River of Pines.
Mountains were slumbering in silence profound; With stars and with moonlight their summits were crowned; While pensive we roamed o'er that dew-spangled sod In the twilight, it seemed the twilight of God; Imbued with a spirit of reverence, bliss, No pleasure, no joy can be likened to this, When the heart its holiest emotions resigns To pictures beheld on this River of Pines.
And there is a season of loveliness, bliss, Outvying the beauty, the splendor of this; When autumn transforms these midsummer views With its magical tints, its radiant hues; Go, sit by those banks, and compose, or compare The spiritual charms of this river so fair; Why should I profane, with my imperfect lines, The wonders unrolled by this River of Pines.
Unfolding, e'en now, like a vision, a dream, The shadows take shape, then realities seem; Were a sunbeam my pen, as melting its light, They'd vanish no faster, these views, while I write; A prophetical link, perchance, in the chain, The beautiful soul may roam here again, And this but a glimpse which the Bible defines Of regions surpassing the River of Pines.
Fair River of Pines, with thy mountains and plains, How rich are thy valleys, all golden with grains, And thy herb-scented groves, so vast and so dim! Thy solitudes teem with the greatness of Him: The cataract's fall, and its thundering roar, Will greet the lone Indian's ear nevermore; Their sorrows are past, yet tradition divines How peaceful their homes by this River of Pines.
Now cottages, shaded by arbor or grove, Where Nature, where Art, all their treasures have wove: Gems from the forest and the tropics are there, Transplanted with taste and with infinite care; No discord; and there, O, how sweet to recall Hospitality's smile embellishing all; A magnetic star—in full glory it shines, Adorning the homes of this River of Pines.
There temples of peace, with their time-hallowed walls;: Each Sabbath to duty the pilgrim recalls: The ambassadors plead with fervor and love— That dews may descend from those rivers above; The spirit unveiled, soon, alas, may behold Those rivers immortal, with grandeur untold: Permitted to worship no more in these shrines, How calm will they rest by this River of Pines.
Like a monarch robed, see Ascutney there stand, His cloud-top o'erlooking the beautiful land; And all that a student of truth may desire, All that the sublime and the great can inspire, Is found here, the heart and the mind to expand; How sacred the theme, O, how classic and grand Are yon halls where Science unfolds her pure mines, When sought are her gems, by this River of Pines.
To banqueting halls by that river-side fair, To notes that were sounded to welcome me there, I fain would bestow, O, I fain would express A prayer, that all the good angels may bless; For tenderness, sympathy, gushing and free, My heart shall respond in its fullness to thee; While Hope shall illume, and while Memory shines In spirit I'll roam by this River of Pines.
