(ILLUSTRATED.)
I left the crowded city,
In my sulky, one hot day,
Quite tired of noise, and dust, and crowds,
And glad to get away;
And thought I’d take a famous drive,
At least ten miles or more,
And have a glance at country life,
If I’d never had before.
Old Hector seemed as glad as I
To leave the rattling street,
And dashed along the pleasant road,
With footfall light and fleet.
Up steep hill-side, o’er level reach,
Far down in shady vale,
Where blossom never bent its head
To rudely passing gale;
Right onward, onward, swift and far
I kept my rapid way.
Till bright, and still, and beautiful,
Sweet nature round me lay:
Then checked my speed, and let the rein
Fall loosely from my hand;
And bared my forehead to the kiss
Of breezes cool and bland.
The dark green wood, the emerald field,
On which a silver stream
Like chord of molten silver lay
Beneath the sunny beam,
The blossoms gemming every spot
In colors rich and rare,
And breathing out their fragrant love
To bless the wooing air—
Beautiful! All was beautiful,
And calm and sweet and pure;
With naught from sense of loveliness
The spirit to allure.
“God made the country,” low I spoke,
And meekly bowed my head;
“And man the town;” more loud and stern
These other words I said.
Then down a shady lane I turned,
And slowly moved along,
Where blossoms filled with odors sweet
The air, and birds with song.
Soon, from amid some broad old elms,
I saw a cottage rise,
And soon old Hector’s pace I checked,
In sudden, mute surprise.
Unseen, I saw, O loveliness!
Was ever like displayed
In form so chaste and innocent,
As in that heavenly maid?
I sketched the scene: ’tis sent with this;
Now say, in mien and face,
Did city maiden ever show
Such purity and grace.
I lingered long, then turned away,
And slowly homeward went,
That lovely maiden’s image fair
With all my fancies blent.
For weeks my dreams were full of her,
And then I went again
To seek the cottage where she dwelt,
But sought for her in vain.
The old, plain cottage mid the elms,
Stood where it stood before,
The rustic lad was there, and sat
Asleep within the door;
The kid beside its stately dam
In the warm sunshine lay:
But the maiden and the child were gone!
I slowly turned away.
Since then, of rustic loveliness,
Till city belles have curled
Their lips of beauty, I have talked,
And challenged half the world
To show in silks, and lawns, and gems,
A maiden half so fair
As she whose bright young cheek was fanned
By purest summer air.