Poems by Samuel Griswold Goodrich

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The shore hath blent with the distant skies,
When I was young long, long ago
I.
And 'mid the awful stillness
When man from Paradise was driven,
The sun has sunk behind the hills,
I.
Peace to the dead! The forest weaves,
Father of Lakes! thy waters bend,
Life is a journey, and its fairest flowers
You bid the minstrel strike the lute,
At misty dawn,
Oh think not with love's soft token,
Twas morn, and, wending on its way,
In days of yore, while yet the world was new,
At evening it rose in the hollow glade,
Our altar is the dewy sod
In midnight dreams the Wizard came,
My boat is on the bounding tide,
I.
It came with spring's soft sun and showers,
On a tall cliff that overhung the deep,
I.
One summer morn, while yet the thrilling lay,
Friend of my early days, we meet once more!
I.
Love and Hope and Youth, together
Two bubbles on a mountain stream,
The sportive sylphs that course the air,
Far, far o'er the deep is my island throne,
I.
I.
I saw a child some four years old,
Along that gloomy river's brim,
Two neighbors, living on a hill,
Here is the boundless ocean, there the sky,
The spirit-harp within the breast
My pretty flower,

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