Give me to die unwitting of the day, And stricken in Life's brave heat, with senses clear! - Edmund Clarence Stedman

O child! dear child! Above the clouds I lift my wing To hear the bells of Heaven ring; Some of their music, though my flights be wild, To Earth I bring; Then let me soar and sing!

Crops failed; wealth took a flight; house, treasure, land, Slipped from my hold—thus plenty comes and goes.
One friend I had, but he too loosed his hand (Or was it I?) the year I met with Rose.

The two, that day,
Lured by a falling water's sound, went deep
Beyond the sunlight, in the forest-keep.

Here from a range of wooded uplands leapt
⁠A mountain brook and far-off meadows sought;
Now under firs and tasselled chestnuts crept,
⁠Then on through jagged rocks a passage fought,
Until it clove this shadowy gorge and cool
In one white cataract, — with a dark, broad pool

Beneath, the home of mottled trout. One side
⁠Rose the cliff's hollowed height, and overhung
An open sward across that basin wide.
⁠The liberal sun through slanting larches flung
Rich spots of gold upon the tufted ground,
And the great royal forest gloomed around.