|line||Near to the bank of the river, o'ershadowed by oaks, from whose branches|
Garlands of Spanish moss and of mystic mistletoe flaunted,
|890||Such as the Druids cut down with golden hatchets at Yuletide,|
Stood, secluded and still, the house of the herdsman. A garden
Girded it round about with a belt of luxuriant blossoms,
Filling the air with fragrance. The house itself was of timbers
Hewn from the cypress-tree, and carefully fitted together.
|895||Large and low was the roof; and on slender columns supported,|
Rose-wreathed, vine-encircled, a broad and spacious veranda,
Haunt of the humming-bird and the bee, extended around it.
At each end of the house, amid the flowers of the garden,
Stationed the dove-cots were, as love's perpetual symbol,
|900||Scenes of endless wooing and endless contentions of rivals.|
Silence reigned o'er the place. The line of shadow and sunshine
Ran near the tops of the trees; but the house itself was in shadow,
And from its chimney-top, ascending and slowly expanding
Into the evening air, a thin blue column of smoke rose.
|905||In the rear of the house, from the garden gate, ran a pathway|
Through the great groves of oak to the skirts of the limitless prairie,
Into whose sea of flowers the sun was slowly descending.
Full in his track of light, like ships with shadowy canvas
Hanging loose from their spars in a motionless calm in the tropics,
|910||Stood a cluster of trees, with tangled cordage of grape-vines.|