IV.

Slow winds our Indian stream through meadows green, By bending willows, tangled fen and brake, Smooth field and farmstead doth its flow forsake; ’Twas in far woodpaths Ion, too, was seen, But oftenest found at Walden’s emerald lake, (The murmuring pines inverted in its sheen;) There in his skiff he rippling rhymes did make, Its answering shores echoing the verse between: Full-voiced the meaning of the wizard song, Far wood and wave and shore, with kindred will, Strophe, antistrophe, in turn prolong:— Now wave and shore and wood are mute and chill, Ion, melodious bard, hath dropt his quill, His harp is silent, and his voice is still.