Morning After a Storm
The elements were all at peace, when I
Wandered abroad at morning's earliest hour,
Not to inhale the fragrance of a flower,
Or gaze upon a sun-illumined sky:
To mark the havoc that the storm had made
I wandered forth, and saw great Nature's power.
The hamlet was in desolation laid
By the strong spirits of the storm; there lay
Around me many a branch of giant trees,
Scattered as leaves are by the southern breeze
Upon a brook, on an autumnal day;
Cloud piled on cloud was there, and they did seem
Like the fantastic figures of a dream,
Till morning brighter grew, and then they rolled away.
II
Oh! Nature, how I love thy face! and now
That there was freshness on thy placid brow,
While I looked on thee with extreme delight,
How leapt my young heart at the lovely sight!
Heaven breathed upon me sweetly, and its breath
Was like the fragrance of a rosy wreath.
The river was wreck-strewn; its gentle breast
Was, like the heart of innocence, at rest;
I stood upon it's grass-grown bank, and smiled,
Cleaving the wave with pebbles like a child,
And marking, as they rose those circles fair
Which grew, and grew, then vanished :—but
Oh! there I learned a moral lesson, which I'll store
Within my bosom's deepest, inmost core!
April, 1827.