Ah! Never Shall The Land Forget.

The Birch-bark Canoe Of The Savage Seems To Me One Of The Most Beautiful And Perfect Things Of The Kind Constructed By Human Art.

Is Not Thy Home Among The Flowers?

God Hath Yoked To Guilt Her Pale Tormentor,--misery.

And At My Silent Window-sill The Jessamine Peeps In.

The Gay Will Laugh When Thou Art Gone, The Solemn Brood Of Care Plod On, And Each One As Before Will Chase His Favourite Phantom; Yet All These Shall Leave Their Mirth And Their Employments, And Shall Come, And Make Their Bed With Thee.