Kind
Nature, ever mild, extends her fond arms to her truant children, and
breathes her words of solace. As we weep on her indulgent and maternal
breast, the exhausted passions, one by one, expire like gladiators in
yon huge pile that has made barbarity sublime. Yes! there is hope and
joy; and it is here!
Where the breeze wanders through a perfumed sky, and where the beautiful
sun illumines beauty.
On the poet's farm and on the conqueror's arch thy beam is lingering!
It lingers on the shattered porticoes that once shrouded from thy
o'erpowering glory the lords of earth; it lingers upon the ruined
temples that even in their desolation are yet sacred! 'Tis gone, as
if in sorrow! Yet the woody lake still blushes with thy warm kiss; and
still thy rosy light tinges the pine that breaks the farthest heaven!
A heaven all light, all beauty, and all love! What marvel men should
worship in these climes? And lo! a small and single cloud is sailing in
the immaculate ether, burnished with twilight, like an Olympian chariot
from above, with the fair vision of some graceful god!
It is the hour that poets love; but I crush thoughts that rise from out
my mind, like nymphs from out their caves, when sets the sun.
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