184 BANKS OF THE HUDSON. Even love, long tried and cherished long, River! in this still hour thou hast Too much of heaven on earth to last; THE WEST WIND. BENEATH the forest's skirts I rest, Sweet Zephyr! why that sound of wo? To meet thy kiss at morning hours? And lo! thy glorious realm outspread- And yon And there the full broad river runs, And many a fount wells fresh and sweet, To cool thee when the mid-day suns Have made thee faint beneath their heat. Thou wind of joy, and youth, and love; Smooths a bright path when thou art here. 186 THE WEST WIND. In lawns the murmuring bee is heard, Ah! thou art like our wayward race ;- Thou lov'st to sigh and murmur still. TO A MUSQUITO. FAIR insect! that, with threadlike legs spread out, In pitiless ears full many a plaintive thing,. Unwillingly, I own, and, what is worse, Full angrily men hearken to thy plaint, Thou gettest many`a brush, and many a curse, I call thee stranger, for the town, I ween, For Titan was thy sire, and fair was she Beneath the rushes was thy cradle swung, And when, at length, thy gauzy wings grew strong, Abroad to gentle airs their folds were flung, Rose in the sky and bore thee soft along : 188 TO A MUSQUITO. The south wind breathed to waft thee on thy way, And calm, afar, the city spires arose,— Thence didst thou hear the distant hum of men, And as its grateful odours met thy nose, Didst seem to smell thy native marsh again; Fair lay its crowded streets, and at the sight Thy tiny song grew shriller with delight. At length thy pinions fluttered in Broadway— Shone through the snowy veils like stars through mist; Oh, these were sights to touch an anchorite! And pour thy tale of sorrow in my ear. What say'st thou-slanderer!-rouge makes thee sick? And China bloom at best is sorry food? And Rowland's Kalydor, if laid on thick, Poisons the thirsty wretch that bores for blood? Go! 'twas a just reward that met thy crime But shun the sacrilege another time. |