Maria Jane Jewsbury

A Remembered Scene

I sing of thee; 'tis sweet to sing
Of such a fair and gladsome thing!

                   Allan Cunninghame.

NOT for thy loveliness though rare,
(Few are the bowers of earth so fair)
Not for thy name though all around
Was hallowed and romantic ground;
Remembered scene! not these thy spell,
And yet I loved thee, love thee well.
Brief was my sojourn in thy breast,
The sojourn of a stranger-guest,
And love and duty now entwine
My heart around another shrine;
Yet, with an influence none may see,
Still yearns my spirit unto thee!
I loved thee, as the parched Gazelle
The sweetness of the desert well:
As Arab tribes the fruitful palm;
As shipwrecked mariners the calm;
As loves the wounded bird its nest;
The toil-worn slave his hour of rest.
Beloved spot! first, first in thee,
Did sickness set its captive free;
Thine was the "air, the earth, the skies."
That seemed "an opening Paradise;"
For, life's decaying fire renewed,
Sufficient was thy solitude.
O joy was in thy leafy glade,
Where winningly the soft breeze played;
There found my heart in bud and bell,
Treasures of thought and fancy dwell;
There listened to the simplest sound
With feelings passionate profound.
'Twas childhood for awhile restored
The dew of morn at noontide poured;
Spring flowers in unexpected bloom,
'Mid dying Autumn's cold and gloom;
Alas! such influence breathes no more,
The vision and the spell are o'er!
Again the world is in my heart,
Around me spreads the crowded mart;
Yet thou, remembered scene, canst throw
O'er each dull shade a heightening glow:
As after sunset gleams the west,
Thy radiant vision cheers my breast.