No hidden phantom of the gloom

Came near us; and in bed we lay

And heard the wind that far away

Now seemed to blow,—as storms outside

Might seem to those whose vessels ride

Rocked on the gentle rise and fall

Of tides within the haven wall.

{14}

THE FOUNTAIN-SPRINGS

Were they not memories of things known before,—

Were

Not the strange vision of an unknown shore,

That met us when in childhood we began

To look upon our dwelling-place, and ran

Fearless to meet our fortune; when our eyes

Saw life with wonder, but without surprise;

When, though newcomers, no strange note we heard

In voice of wind or wave or song of bird;

And looking on the hills and trees and flowers

We loved, and without question made them ours;{15}

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