  My careful plans all storm-subdued, In disappointing solitude The weary hours began; And scarce I deemed when time had sped, Marked only by the passing tread Of some pedestrian. But with the morrow's tranquil dawn, A fairy scene I looked upon That filled me with delight; Far-reaching from my own abode, The world in matchless splendor glowed, Arrayed in spotless white. The surface of the hillside slope Gleamed in my farthest vision's scope Like opalescent stone; Rich jewels hung on every tree, Whose crystalline transparency Golconda's gems outshone. Beyond the line where wayside posts Stood up, like fear-inspiring ghosts Of awful form and mien, A mansion tall, my neighbor's pride, Uprose in wondrous sheen. The evergreens loomed up before My staunch and storm-defying door, Like snowy palaces That one dare only penetrate With reverence—as at Heaven's gate, Awed by its mysteries. The apple trees' extended arms Upheld a thousand varied charms; The curious tracery Of trellised grapevine seemed to me A rare network of filigree In silver drapery. And I no longer thought it hard From favorite pursuits debarred, Nor gazed with rueful face; For every object seemed to be Invested with the witchery Of magic art and grace. And, though a multitude of cares, Perplexing, profitless affairs, Absorbed the hours, it seems I mounted heavenward, and wrought Out many hopeful schemes. Thus every day, though it may span The gulf wherein some cherished plan Lies disarranged and crossed, If, ere its close, we shall have trod The path that leads us nearer God, Cannot be counted lost. |
|
