Classic Poem

XIII.—ON READING PAUL AND VIRGINIA IN CHILDHOOD

O GENTLE story of the Indian isle!
I loved thee in my lonely childhood well;
On the sea shore, when day's last purple smile
Slept on the waters, and their hollow swell
And dying cadence let a deeper spell
Unto thine ocean-pictures. 'Midst thy palms
And strange bright birds, my fancy joy'd to dwell,
And watch the southern cross through midnight calms,
And track the spicy woods. Yet more I bless'd
Thy vision of sweet love; kind, trustful, true,
Lighting the citron groves—a heavenly guest,
With such pure smiles as Paradise once knew.
Even then my young heart wept o'er the world's power,
To reach and blight that holiest Eden flower.