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[277] Sounding the summer night, the stars
     Dropped down their golden plummets;
The pale arc of the Northern lights
     Rose o'er the mountain summits,

Until, at last, beneath its bridge,
     We heard the Bearcamp flowing,
And saw across the mapled lawn
     The welcome home-lights glowing.

And, musing on the tale I heard,
     Twere well, thought I, if often
To rugged farm-life came the gift
     To harmonize and soften;

If more and more we found the troth
     Of fact and fancy plighted,
And culture's charm and labor's strength
     In rural homes united,—

The simple life, the homely hearth,
     With beauty's sphere surrounding,
And blessing toil where toil abounds
     With graces more abounding.


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1868 AD (1)
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