My Piazza. Poem by Caroline Howard Gilman

MY piazza, my piazza! some boast their lordly halls,
Where soften'd gleams of curtain'd light on golden treasure falls,
Where pictures in ancestral rank look stately side by side,
And forms of beauty and of grace move on in living pride!

I envy not the gorgeousness that decks the crowded room,
Where vases with exotic flowers throw out their sick perfume,
With carpets where the slipper'd foot sinks soft in downy swell,
And mirror'd walls reflect the cheek where dimpled beauties dwell.

My fresh and cool piazza! I seek the healthy breeze
That circles round thy shading vines, and softly-waving trees,
With step on step monotonous, I tread thy level floor,
And muse upon the sacred past, or calmly look before.

My bright and gay piazza! I love thee in the hour,
When morning decks with dewy gems the wavy blade and flow'r,
When the bird alights, and sings his song, upon the neighbouring tree,
As if his notes were only made to cheer himself and me.

My cool and fresh piazza! I love thee when the sun
His long and fervid circuit o'er the burning earth has run;
I joy to watch his parting light loom upward to the eye,
And view the pencil-touch shade off, and then in softness die.

My sociable piazza! I prize thy quiet talk,
When arm in arm with one I love, I tread the accustomed walk;
Or loll within our rocking-chairs, not over nice or wise,
And yield the careless confidence, where heart to heart replies

My piazza, my piazza! my spirit oft rejoices,
When from thy distant nooks I hear the sound of youthful voices;
The careless jest, the bursting laugh, the carol wildly gay,
Or cheerful step, with exercise that crowns the studious day.

My beautiful piazza! thou hast thy nightly boast,
When brightly in the darken'd sky appear the heavenly host;
Arcturus glows more brilliantly than monarchs' blazing gem,
And fair Corona sits enshrined, like angels' diadem.

My loved and lone piazza! the dear ones have departed,
And each their nightly pillow seek the young and happy-hearted,
I linger still, a solemn hush is brooding o'er the skies,
A solemn hush upon the earth in tender silence lies.

I feel as if a spirit's wing came near and brush'd my heart,
And bade, before I yield to sleep, earth's heavy cares depart;
Father, in all simplicity: I breathe the prayer I love,
Oh, watch around my slumbering form, or take my soul above,