Once, on a cold and loud-voiced winter night, The three were seated by their cottage-fire-- The mother watching by its flickering light The wakeful urchin, and the dozing sire; There was a brief, quick motion like a bird's, And the boy's thought thus rippled into words: XI "O mother! thou hast taught me many things, But none I think more beautiful than speech-- A nobler power than even those broad wings I used to pray for, when I longed to reach That distant peak which on our vale looks down, And wears the star of evening for a crown. XII "But, mother, while our human words are rife To us with meaning, other sounds there be Which seem, and are, the language of a life Around, yet unlike ours: winds talk; the sea Murmurs articulately, and the sky Listens, and answers, though inaudibly. XIII "By stream and spring, in glades and woodlands lone, Beside our very cot I've gathered flowers Inscribed with signs and characters unknown; But the frail scrolls still baffle all my powers: What is this language and where is the key That opes its weird and wondrous mystery? XIV "The forests know it, and the mountains know, And it is written in the sunset's dyes; A revelation to the world below Is daily going on before our eyes; And, but for sinful thoughts, I do not doubt That we could spell the thrilling secret out. XV "O mother! somewhere on this lovely earth I lived, and understood that mystic tongue, But, for some reason, to my second birth Only the dullest memories have clung, Like that fair tree that even while blossoming Keeps the dead berries of a former spring. XVI "Who shall put life in these?--my nightly dreams Some teacher of supernal powers foretell; A fair and stately shape appears, which seems Bright with all truth; and once, in a dark dell Within the forest, unto me there came A voice that must be hers, which called my name." XVII Puzzled and frightened, wondering more and more, The mother heard, but did not comprehend; "So early dallying with forbidden lore! Oh, what will chance, and wherein will it end? My child! my child!" she caught him to her breast, "Oh, let me kiss these wildering thoughts to rest! XVIII "They cannot come from God, who freely gives All that we need to have, or ought to know; Beware, my son! some evil influence strives To grieve thy parents, and to work thee woe; Alas! the vision I misunderstood! It could not be an angel fair and good." XIX