Plant of lost Eden, from the sod White blossom of the trees of God This tangled waste of mound and stone A sweetness which is all thy own And while ancestral pride shall twine And let the lines that severed seem As western wave and Gallic stream OCCASIONAL POEMS. NAPLES.-1860. INSCRIBED TO ROBERT C. WATERSTON, OF BOSTON. I GIVE thee joy!-I know to thee Where sleeps thy loved one by the summer sea; Where, near her sweetest poet's tomb, The land of Virgil gave thee room I know that when the sky shut down 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 Thou knewest not the land was blest Holding the fond hope closer to her breast That every sweet and saintly grave The pledge of Heaven to sanctify and save. |