Sonnet

Thou hast thy faults Virginia! yet I own
I love thee still, although no son of thine,
For I have climbed thy mountains — not alone —
And made the wonders of thy vallies [ sic ] mine:
Finding from morning's dawn to days decline
Some marvel yet unmarked — some peak whose throne
Was loftier — girt with mist and crowned with pine;
Some narrow rugged glen with copse o'ergrown
The birth of some sweet fountain — or the line
Traced by some silver stream that wandered lone:
Or the dark cave where hidden chrystals shine —
Or the wild arch across the blue sky thrown —
Or else those traits of Nature more divine
That in some favored child of thine had shone!
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