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Plant of lost Eden, from the sod

Of sinful earth unriven,
White blossom of the trees of God

Dropped down to us from heaven ! This tangled waste of mound and stone

Is holy for thy sake;
A sweetness which is all thy own

Breathes out from fern and brake.

And while ancestral pride shall twine

The Gascon's tomb with flowers, Fall sweetly here, O song of mine,

With summer's bloom and showers !

And let the lines that severed seem

Unite again in thee,
As western wave and Gallic stream

Are mingled in one sea !

OCCASIONAL POEMS.

OCCASIONAL POEMS.

NAPLES.–1860.

INSCRIBED TO ROBERT C. WATERSTON, OF BOSTON.

I GIVE thee joy !-I know to thee

The dearest spot on earth must be Where sleeps thy loved one by the summer sea;

Where, near her sweetest poet's tomb,

The land of Virgil gave thee room
To lay thy flower with her perpetual bloom.

I know that when the sky shut down

Behind thee on the gleaming town, On Baiæ's baths and Posilippo's crown;

And, through thy tears, the mocking day

Burned Ischia's mountain lines away, And Capri melted in its sunny bay,—

Through thy great farewell sorrow shot

The sharp pang of a bitter thought
That slaves must tread around that holy spot.

Thou knewest not the land was blest

In giving thy beloved rest,
Holding the fond hope closer to her breast

That every sweet and saintly grave

Was freedom's prophecy, and gave The pledge of Heaven to sanctify and save.

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