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POETRY OF THE WOODS.
AND ye are strong to shelter !—all meek things,
shade! Birds, of shy song, and low-voiced quiet springs, And nun-like violets, by the wind betrayed. Childhood beneath your fresh green tents hath
played With his first primrose-wealth : there love hath
sought A veiling gloom for his unuttered thought; And silent grief, of day's keen glare afraid, A refuge for her tears; and ofttimes there Hath lone devotion found a place of prayer, A native temple, solemn, hushed, and dim; For wheresoe'er your murmuring tremors thrill The woody twilight, there man's heart hath still Confessed a spirit's breath, and heard a ceaseless