A beauteous Cove, amid the isles That sprinkle Casco's winding bay, Where, like an Eden, nature smiles In all her wild and rich array. 'Tis sheltered from the ocean's roar By beetling crags and foam-girt rifts, And mossy trees, that ages hoar Have braved the sea-gales on its cliffs! The broad-armed oak, the beech and pine, And elm, their branches intertwine Above its tranquil, glassy face, So that the sun finds scarcely space At mid-day, for his fervid beam To shimmer on the limpid stream; And in its rugged, sparry caves, Worn by the winter's tempest waves, Gleams many a crystal wildly bright Like _diamonds_, flashing radiant light, And hence the fairy spot is 'hight.' The forests far extending round, Ne'er to the spoiler's axe resound; Nor is man's toil or traces there; But resteth all as lone and fair-- The sunny slopes, the rocks and trees, As desert isles in Indian seas, That sometimes rise upon the view Of some far-wandering, wind-bound crew, Sleeping alone mid ocean's blue. The lonely ospray rears her brood Deep in the forest-solitude; And through the long, bright summer day, When ocean, calm as mountain lake, Bears not a breath its hush to break, The snow-winged sea-gull tilts away Upon the long, smooth swell, that sweeps, In curving, wide, unbroken reach, Into the cove from outer deeps, Unwinding up the pebbly beach. Oft blithly ring the wide old woods, Within their loneliest solitudes, To youthful shout, and song, and glee, And viol's merry minstrelsy, When summer's stirless, sultry air Pervades the city's thoroughfare, And drives the throng to seek the shades Of these green, zephyr-breathing glades! The dance goes round; the trunks so tall-- Rough columns of the festal hall-- Sustain a broad and lofty roof Of nature's greenest, loveliest woof! The maiden weaves, in lieu of wreath, The bending fern-plumes in her hair, And the wild flowers with scented breath, That spring to blossom every where Around; the forest's dream-like rest Drives care and sorrow from each breast, And makes the worn and weary blest! And when the broad, dim waters blush Beneath the tints of ebbing day, When comes the moon out in the hush Of eve, with mellow, timid ray, And twilight lingers far away On the blue waste, the fisher's skiff Comes dancing in, and 'neath the cliff Is moored to rest, till morning's train Beams with fresh beauty o'er the main, And wakes him to his toil again!