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326

POEMS.

Beneath the shadow of Arabian palms
Thou'st gently fanned my heavy eyes to rest,
Praying new life might come with spicy balms
Breathed o'er me from the land well named ' the Blest.'

On hallowed Olivet our feet have trod,
Where He of Nazareth was wont to pray, —
We wept o'er Salem that disowned her God,
Her glorious garments stained, her kingdom rent away.

Fair was our summer home as childhood's dream.
Where, robed in clouds of canvas floating free, —
While gilded barges gay his bosom gem-
The dark blue Bosphorus hastes from sea to sea.

Greece, with her purple islands swathed in gold.
Her skies transparent as the AEgean flood,
Her mountains that heaven's rainbow-robes enfold —
Even on that mythic shore together we have stood.