AFTER A LECTURE AT ALBANY <br /> <br />'T WAS a vision of childhood that came with its dawn, <br />Ere the curtain that covered life's day-star was drawn; <br />The nurse told the tale when the shadows grew long, <br />And the mother's soft lullaby breathed it in song. <br /> <br />'There flows a fair stream by the hills of the West,'-- <br />She sang to her boy as he lay on her breast; <br />'Along its smooth margin thy fathers have played; <br />Beside its deep waters their ashes are laid.' <br /> <br />I wandered afar from the land of my birth, <br />I saw the old rivers, renowned upon earth, <br />But fancy still painted that wide-flowing stream <br />With the many-hued pencil of infancy's dream. <br /> <br />I saw the green banks of the castle-crowned Rhine, <br />Where the grapes drink the moonlight and change it to wine; <br />I stood by the Avon, whose waves as they glide <br />Still whisper his glory who sleeps at their side. <br /> <br />But my heart would still yearn for the sound of the waves <br />That sing as they flow by my forefathers' graves; <br />If manhood yet honors my cheek with a tear, <br />I care not who sees it,--no blush for it here! <br /> <br />Farewell to the deep-bosomed stream of the West! <br />I fling this loose blossom to float on its breast; <br />Nor let the dear love of its children grow cold, <br />Till the channel is dry where its waters have rolled!<br /><br />Oliver Wendell Holmes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-hudson/
