Extract from "Geraldine"

I know a spot where poets fain would dwell,
To gather flowers and food for afterthought,
As bees draw honey from the rose's cell,
To hive among the treasures they have wrought;
And there a cottage from a sylvan screen
Sent up its curling smoke amidst the green.
Around that hermit-home of quietude,
The elm trees whisper'd with the summer air,
And nothing ever ventui-ed to intrude,
But happy birds, that caroll'd wildly there,
Or honey-laden harvesters, that flew
Humming away to drink the morning dew.
Around the door the honeysuckle climbed,
And Multa-flora spread her countless roses,
And never minstrel sang nor poet rhymed
Romantic scene where happiness reposes,
Sweeter to sense than that enchanting dell,
Where home-sick memory fondly loves to dwell
Beneath a mountain's brow the cottage stood,
Hard by a shelving lake, whose pebbled bed
Was skirted by the drapery of a wood,
That hung its festoon foliage over head,
Where wild deer came at eve, unharm'd, to drink,
While moonlight threw their shadows from the brink.
The green earth heaved her giant waves around,
Where through the mountain vista one vast height
Tower'd heavenward without peer, his forehead bound
With gorgeous clouds, at times of changeful light,
While far below, the lake, in bridal rest,
Slept with his glorious picture on her breast.