Bushnell Park.

Sweet resting place! that long hath been     A boon Elysian 'mid the din         Of city life, 'mid city smoke;     Where weary ones who toil and spin     Have turned aside as to an inn         Whose swinging sign a welcome spoke;     Where misanthropes find medicine     In peals of laughter that begin         With ancient, resurrected joke,     Or ready wit of harlequin;     Where children, free from discipline,         Take on Diversion's easy yoke.     Fair oasis! to view aright     Its charming paths, its sloping height,         Its beautiful and broad expanse,     Must one approach in witching night     When, like abodes of airy sprite         Revealed unto the wondering glance,     O'erflooded with electric light     Than Luna's beams more dazzling bright,         Illumined nooks the scene enhance;     While zephyrs mischievous unite     The timid stroller to affright         By swaying boughs in shadow dance.     The Capitol that crowns the hill     Where Boreas sweeps with icy chill,         A masterpiece of studied art     Conceived by genius versatile     And fashioned with unerring skill,         O'erlooks the busy, crowded mart,     And, like a kingly domicile,     Its burnished dome and sculpture thrill         With admiration every heart;     And strangers pause beyond the rill     To view its grandeur, lingering still,         And with reluctant steps depart.     O Bushnell Park, memorial soil!     That marks success (though near to foil)         Of one who with prophetic ken,     With honest zeal and ceaseless toil,     Opposed the vandal wish to spoil         This lovely bit of vale and glen;     Who, 'mid discussion and turmoil     Of adverse minds, did not recoil         From vigorous stroke of tongue and pen;     And then, till passion ceased to boil,     On troubled waters poured out oil         And to his plans won other men.     So when, fatigued and overwrought,     In summer time when skies are hot         We seek its verdant, velvet sward,     Oh may we hold in reverent thought     The debt we owe, forgetting not         The spirit passed to its reward     Of one whose giant soul was fraught     With true benignity - who sought         To touch humanity's quick chord     With fire from Heaven's altar brought,     That love and zeal and being caught         As inspiration from the Lord.