IN ARCADY.

Evening Post, Volume LVI, Issue 80, 1 October 1898, Page 2 (Supplement)

IN ARCADY.

Not a movement, not a murmur in the wind. Not a bird-note, not a whisper in the air; Not a fancy, not a feeling in the inin'd But the one thought, ' It is very, very fair.' And the perfume, what a perfume, of the pine ! And the azure, what an azure, there below, Where the waters in a long and oreamy line Come in wavelets ! Ah, the Ocean has its snow. Oh, the beauty of the downward-dropping rills, As they fell, or seemed to fall, without a sound ! The enchantment, old enchantment, of the . hills, With the mystery of silence all around ! As if Spirits of the mountain and the deep, Fancy's loveliest creations, still were there, Who might wake up any moment from their sleep, Nymph and Naiad, beauty's semblance, yet more fair : Something dearer than the stillness of the wood; Something livelier than the radiance of of the green ; Who might teach us in a voice we understood, That a heart i,3 there in Nature, though unseen ; That a mother's heart is beating in her grace ; She hath wisdom, she is wonderfully wise ; There is purpose in each wrinkle of her cheek ; Love is lurking in the glanceß of hor eyes. And the wildness has departed from her life ; Peace is shining on hor battlefields of old ; Here the mountain tells of earthquake and of strife ; There the valley has its cornfield, and its gold. So we lingered, till the landscape seemed to blend With the golden haze of sunset far away ; And we knew not the beginning from the end : All was passing with the passing ot the day. All was passing, yet it cometh oft again, In the evening, like a well-beloved guest, That remembrance of a beauty without stain, Of a world just for a moment at its best. Not a movement, not a murmur in the wind i Not a biid-note, not a whisper in the air ! But engraven as a picture on the mind Still I see it. It \yas very, very fair. — A.G.8., in the Spectator.