Verses for M—

The river on the eastRipples its azure flood within my sight,And, darting from the west,Are sunset arrows feathered with red light;The northern wind has hungHis wintry harp upon some giant pine,And the pale stars amongI see the stars I love to name as mine,But toward the south I turn my eager eyes—Beyond its flushed horizon my heart lies.

The snow-clad isles of iceLaunched by wild Boreas from a northern shoreJourney the way my eyesTurn with an envious longing evermore,Smiling back to the skyIts own pink blush, and, floating out of sight,Bear south the softest dyeOf northern heavens to fade in southern night—My eyes but look the way my joys are gone,And the ice islands travel not alone.The untrod fields of snowGlow with the rosy dye of parting day,And fancy asks if soThe snow is stained with sunset far away,And if some face, like mine,Its forehead pressed against the window pane,Peers northward with the shineOf the pole star reflected in eyes' rain;"Ah yes," my heart says, "it is surely so,"And like a bound bird flutters hard to go.

Port Huron, Mich., 1852.