Once more I stray among this wilderness
Of ancient trees, and through the rustling fern,
Golden and sere, brush forward; at each turn
Meeting fresh avenues in winter dress
Of long gray moss, or yellow lichen bright;
While the long lines of intercepted shade,
Spread into distance through the turfy glade,
Chequered with rosy paths of evening light.
Here first I learned to tune my youthful thoughts
To themes of blessed import: woods and sky,
And waters, as they rushed or slumbered by,
For my poetic soul refreshment brought;
And now within me rise, unbidden long,
Fresh springs of life,--fresh themes of earnest song.