Samuel Kettell, ed. Specimens of American Poetry. 1829.
By The Cottage LoversRichard Penn Smith (17991854)
T
The violet blooms on the brink of the fountain;
Low murmurs the stream from the mossy rock gushing,
But wildly and loud through the dark ravine rushing.
The crescent moon sinks like a bark in the west;
The first streak of morning now breaks through the night,
And mountains and vales ring with hymns of delight.
The voice of the fleet hound is frequent and shrill,
While panting the chased stag appears at the lake,
He swims the dark stream and then bounds through the brake.
Which blushingly steals where the maiden is sleeping!
How softly the breeze sounds that kisses the billow!
But softer by far is the sigh on yon pillow.
And gaily a voice sings “Awake! oh! awake!
The morning already is gray on the hill;
The crow of the barn cock is frequent and shrill.
The mocking bird sings on the top of the oak;
The cow-boy is driving the herd to the lake,
The plough-boy’s afield, and all nature’s awake.
Where souls may be free as the wings of the plover,
And hearts shall be pure as the vestal maid’s shrine,
And the day star of true love shall never decline.
And ruby lips glow through the foliage of green,
Like buds of the vine the wild breezes perfuming,
Ere breath of the morning has kiss’d them to blooming.
And looks upon life as a fairy-like dream,
For she hies to the spot where her soul may be blest
With a passion as mild as the dove in its nest.
Her lover beside her with arm round her waist,
He presses her lips as they float from the shore
And they mingle their songs with the dash of the oar.