Poems of Nature - Forgotten Books

THE WORLD 'S BEST POETRY

WORv . 5

THE

ORLD’

S BEST POETRY

B L I s s oA R MAN

Editor-in-Chief

V o l um e F i v e

POEMS OF NATURE

Introductory E ssayTHE POETRY OF NATURE

By Charles G. D . R oberts

THE UNIVERSITY SO CIETY INC.

New York

CO PYR IGH T , 1 904 , B Y

T H E UN IVE R S l T Y SO C IETY IN C.

MANUFACTURED IN THE U . S. A.

NOTICE OF COPYRIGHTS .

American poems in th is volume within the legal protection

of copyright are used by the courteous perm iss ion of the

owners,— either the publishers named in the following list or

the authors or their representatives in the subsequent one,

who reserve all their rights. S O far as practicab le, perm ission

has been secured also for poem s out of copyright.

P UB L ISHER S O F THE WO R LD ’S B E ST P O E TR Y .

Messrs . D . A PP LE TON 8: Co. , New York —W. C . B ryant:“ The

D eath of the F lowers," “ The E vening

"

Wind .

” “ A Forest

Hymn,

” To the Fringed Gentian,

” June,

” T he P lantingof the Apple-Tree,

” R obert of L incoln,” The Snow

S hower,” T O a Waterfowl .”

The B O B B S -ME RR ILL COMPANY, Ind ianapolis —F . L . S tantonThe Mocking-B ird .

”

Messrs . HOUGHTON , MIFFL IN Co., B oston

—T . B . A ldr ichA fter the R ain,” B efore the R a in G . A rnold : S ep

tember Ina Coolbri th : Copa de O ro,” Mariposa

L ily R . W. E merson : E ach and A ll,” To the Humble

B ee,” “ The R hodora ,

” “ The Sea ,” “ The Snow- S torm ;

”

L oui se Imogen Gn iney : TO a Dog’s Memory B ret

H arte: Ch iquita T . W. H i gginson :“ The Snowing of

the P ines ,” O . W. H olmes:

“ The Chambered Nautilus,

”

To an Insect,” “ The P loughman ;” H . W. L ongfellow

“ Daybreak,” “ F lowers,

” Hymn to the Night,” Moonlight oh the P ra irie

,

” “ The P rimaeval Forest,” “ R a in in

Summer,” S ea-Weed ,

” Snowflakes J. R . L owel l : To

the Dandelion,

” Summer S torms ; W. M i tchell: Tack ingSh ip O ff Shore J. J. R oche: “ The Kearsarge E . R .

S i ll : Among the R edwoods E . C . S tedm an : B etrothed

Anew B . Tay lor :“ The Arab to the Palm Celi a L .

Thaxter May Morning,” “ The S and -

p iper ; E d i th M .

T homa s:“ Frost J. M. Thomp son :“ Wild Honey ;

” H .

T imrod :“Spring in Carolina ;

” J. Very“ The Latter

R a in,” Nature C . H . Webb : With a Nantucket Shell

J. G . Whi ttier:“Hampton B each ,” “ The Palm - Tree,

” “ The

Pumpkin.

”

VO L . V . NATURE .

CO P YR IGH T , 1 904, B Y

T H E UN IVERS ITY SO C IETY IN C.

MANUFACTURED IN THE U . S. A.

NOTICE OF COPYRIGHTS .

ican poems in this volume within the legal protection

t are used by the courteous perm ission of the

er the publishers named in the following list or

their representatives in the subsequent one,

rve all their rights . So far as practicable, perm iss ion

n secured a lso for poems out of copyright .

P UB L ISHER S O F THE WO R LD ’S B E ST P O E TR Y .

D . A PP LE TON CO . , New York —W. C . B ryant :“ The

,h of the F lowers,” “ T he E vening “f ind ,

” A Fo rest

in,

” To the Fringed Gentian,

” June,” T he P lanting

h e Apple- Tree,” R obert O f L incoln,

” The S nowver,

” TO a Waterfowl .”

DE B S -ME R R ILL COMPANY,Indianapolis —F . L . S ta nton

[O Mocking-B ird .

”

s. HOUGHTON , MIFFL IN CO ., B oston

—T . B . A ld rmh :‘

ter the R a in,

” B efore the R a in G . A rnold : S epoer Ina Coolbri th : Copa de O ro,

” Mariposa

R . W. E m erson : E ach and A ll,” To the Hum ble

“ The R hodora ,” “ T he S ea ,

” T he S now- S torm

ise Imogen G niney : To a Dog’s Memory B ret

te: Ch iquita T . W. H igginson“ T he S nowing of

P ines ;” O . W. H olmes: “ The C hambered Naut ilus ,

”

an Insect,” “ T he P loughman ;” 1 1 . IV. .l .o ng/ lvllm n

hybreak,” “ Flowers ,

” “ Hymn to the N igh t,” Moon

5 on the P ra irie,

” “ T he P rimaeva l Fores t,” R a in In

.mer,” S ea -Weet S nowflakes J. R . Lowel l “ T o

Dandelion,

” Summer S torms ; lV. M i lrhcll: T ac k l ing

O ff Shore t,” J. J. R oche: T he Kea rs arge It.

Among the R edwoods E . C . S team/ m : J3vi l‘

utll l ‘tl

W B . Tay lor :“ T he Arab to the P a lm Ur l iu. I..

after May Morning,” The S a nd -

p ipe r E d i th M .

mas:“ Frost J. M . Thom p s on:“ Wild l lnm '

y z” II.

r od :“S pring in Carolina ,

” J. Vern“ T he L atte-r

I,

” Nature C . II . Webb : With a Nantucke t S lw ll‘

:

1Whi ttier:“Hampton B each ,” “ The Pa lm -Trev,”

'

l he

1 in.

”p

vii VO L . V . NATURE .

IVO TI OE OF 0 OP YR I GH T S .

T he L O THR O P P UB L I SH ING COMPANY, B oston—R . B urton“ The Polar Quest ;

” P . H . H ayne:“ A S torm in the

D istance.

”

Messrs . L . C . P AGE CO .,B oston —C . G . D . R oberts: The

F light of the Geese,” In theWide Awe and Wisdom of the

Night,” The Shore,

” The Solitary Woodsman.

”

Messrs . S CO TT , FO R E SMAN CO . , Ch icago—B . F . T ay lor:

The Northern L igh ts.

”

Messrs . SMALL , MAYNAR D 85 CO . , B oston —B . Ca rman: The

Grave- d igger,” “ A More Ancient Mariner Cha rlotte P er

kins G i lman : The R ock and the S ea R . H oney : The

Faun E li z abeth R . Ma cd ona ld :“ A S ong of S easons,”

J. B . Ta bb: Indian Summer,

” The Water- L ily .

T he FR E D E R ICK A; S TOKE S COMPANY, New York .—S . M . P eek

S assafras .

”

American poems in th is volume by the authors whose names

are given below are the copyrighted property of the authors,

or of their representatives nam ed in parenthesis, and may not

be reprinted without th eir perm ission, which for the present

work has been courteously granted .

P UB L ISHE R S O F THE WOR LD ’S B E S T P O E TR Y .

7. B enton ; J. E . B owen (D r. George A . B owen ) ; C . T . B rooks

(Mrs . Harriet Lyman B rooks ) J. B urroughs ; R ose Terry

Cooke (R ollin H . Cooke ) ; M ary Map es D odge ; E la ine

Good a le E a stm an ; Wilson F lagg ( Isaac F lagg) ; R . W.

G i lder ; D ora R ead Good a le ; R . M . Johnson ; J. W. R i ley

F . Sewa ll.

THE POE TRY OF NATURE .

*

BY CH ARLES GEORGE DOUGLA S ROB ERTS .

WH EN Keats wrote “ The Poetry of E arth i s

never dead,

” he enunc iated a truth wh i ch the

world of h i s own day was hard ly ready to accept

in i ts fu lness . T O -day,none would seri ously

quest i on i t . R egarded subject i vely,the poetry

of earth,or

,in other words

,the qua l i ty wh i ch

makes for poetry in externa l nature,i s that

power in nature wh i ch moves us by suggest i on,

wh i ch exc ites in us emot ion,imaginati on

,or poign ‘

ant assoc i at i on wh i ch p lays upon the tense

strings of our sympath ies w i th the fingers of mem

orv or des i re. Th i s power may res ide not less in

a bleak pasture- l ot than in a parad i sa l c l ose O f

bloom and verdure,not less in a roads ide th i stle ]

patch than in a peak that soars into the sunset

I t works through sheer beauty or sheer subl im i tybut i t may work w i th equa l effect through auster

i ty or ret i cence or l im i tat i on or change. It may

use the most common scenes,the most fami l i ar

facts and forms,as the veh i c le of i ts most pene

trating and most i l l um inating message. It i s apt

to make the drop of dew on a grass iglade as s igni

ficant as the starred concave of the sky .

The poetry of nature,by wh i ch I mean th is

* Copy right, 1 904 , by Charles G . D . Roberts .

N O TI CE OF C OP YR I GH T S .

The LO T IIRO P P UB L I SH ING COMPANY, B oston—R . B urton“ T he Polar Quest ;

” P . H . H a yne:“ A S torm in the

D istance.

”

Messrs . L . C . P AGE CO . , B oston —0 . G . D . R oberts: TheF ligh t of the Geese,

” In theWide Awe and Wisdom of the

N ight,” The Shore,

” The Solitary Woodsman.

”

Messrs . S CO TT ,FO R E SMAN CO . , Ch icago

—B . F . T ay lorThe Northern L ights.

”

Messrs . SMALL , MAYNAR D CO . , B oston.- B . Carman: The

Grave- d igger,” “ A More Ancient Mariner Cha rlotte P er

kins G ilman : The R ock and the S ea R . H oney : The

Faun E li z abeth R . M a cdona ld :“ A Song of S easons,”

J. B . Ta bb : Ind ian Summer,

” The Water-Lily .

T he FR E DE R ICKA; S TOKE S COMPANY, NewYork—S . M . P eck

S assafras.

”

American poems in th is volume by the authors whose names

are given below are the copyrighted property of the authors,

or of their representatives named in parenthesis, and may nOt

b e reprinted without their perm ission, which for the present

work has been courteously granted .

P UB L ISHE R S O F THE WO R LD ’S B E ST P O E TR Y .

7. B enton ; J. E . B owen (D r. George A . B owen ) ; C . T . B rooks

(Mrs . Harriet Lyman B rooks ) J. B urroughs ; R ose Terry

Cooke (R ollin H . Cooke ) ; Ma ry Mapes D od ge ;

Good a le E astm an ; Wilson F lagg ( Isaac Flagg) ; R .

G i ld er ; D ora R ead Good a le ; R . M . Johnson ; J. W. R i l

F . Sewa ll.

THE P O E TRY OF NATURE .

*

BY CHARLES GEORGE DO UGLAS RO B ERTS .

WH EN Keats wrote,

“ The Poetry O f E arth i s

ever dead,

” he enunc iated a truth wh i ch the

d of h i s own day was hard ly ready to accept

in i t s fu lness . To- day,none would seri ous ly

quest i on i t . R egarded subject ively,the poetry

of earth,or

,in other words

,the qua l i ty wh i ch

makes for poetry in externa l nature,is that

power in nature whi ch moves us by suggestion.

wh i ch exc i tes in us emot ion,imaginat ion

,or po ign

ant assoc iat i on wh i ch plays upon the tense

strings of our sympath ies w i th the fingers of mem

ory or des i re. T h i s power may res ide not les s in

a bleak pasture- l ot than in a parad i sa l c l ose. o f

bloom and verdure,not less in a road s ide th i s tle

patch than in a peak that soars into the sunse t.

I t works through sheer beauty or Sheer sub lim ih

but i t may work w ith equa l efl’

ect th rough aus te r

i ty or ret i cence or l im i tat i on or change . i t ma y

use the most common scenes , the mos t. fami l ia r

facts and forms,as the veh i c le of its mo s t pe ne

trating and most i l l um inat ing mes sage . It is a pt

to make the drop O f dew on a gra s slgla tle a s s ign i

ficant as the starred concave of the skv.

T he poetry of nature,by wh ich i mean th is

* Copy right, 1 904 , by C h arles G . D . R obe rts .

x THE POE TR Y OF NATUR E .

poetry of earth ”expressed in words

,may be

rough ly d i v ided into two main c lasses :that wh i ch

dea l s wi th mere descri pt i on, and that wh i ch

treats of nature in some one of i ts many rel at i ons

w i th humanitv. The l atter c lass i s that wh i ch

a lone was contemplated in Keats ’s l ine.I t has

manv subd i v i s ions ; i t inc l udes much of the great

est poetry that the world has known ; and there

i s l i tt le verse O f acknowledged mastery that does

not depend upon i t for some port i on Of i ts appea l .The former cl ass has but a s lender c la im to

recogn i t i on as poetry,under any defin i t i on of

poetry that does not make metr i ca l form the

prime essent ia l . The fa i l ures of the wi sest to

enunc i ate a sat i sfa ctory defin i t i on of poetry

make i t a lmost presumptuous for a cr i t i c now to

attempt the task ; but from an analys i s of these

fa i lures one may educe someth ing rough ly to

serve the purpose. To say that poetry is the met

r ica l expression in words of thought fused in

emotion,i s of course incomplete ; but i t has the

advantage of defin ing . NO one can th ink that

any th ing other than poetry i s intended by such

a defin i t i on ; and noth ing i s exc luded that can

show a c lear c la im to admittance. But the poetry

of mere enumerat i ve descri pt i on might perhaps

not pass wi thout cha l lenge, so fa int i s the flame

of i ts emot ion,so imperfect the fus ion of i ts

thought . It i s verse of th i s sort that i s meant

by und i scrim inat ing cr it i cs when they inveigh

aga inst “nature-poetry ,

”and dec lare that the

on ly poetry worth man ’s attent i on i s that wh i ch

has to do wi th the heart of man .

https://www.forgottenbooks.com/join

x THE POE TR Y OF NATUR E .

poetry of earth expressed in words,may

rough ly d i v ided into two main c lasses :that whi

dea l s wi th mere descri pt i on,and that whi

treats of nature in some one of i ts many relatio

Wi th humanitv. The l atter c lass i s that wh i ch

a l one was contemplated in Keats’

s l ine ,I t has

manv subd i v i s i ons ; i t inc ludes much of the great

est poetry that the world has known ; and there

i s l i tt le verse of acknowledged mastery that does

not depend upon i t for some port i on Of i ts appeal .The former cl ass has but a S lender c la im to

recogn i t i on as poetry,under any defin i t i on of

poetry that does not make metr i ca l form the

prime essent ia l . The fa i l ures of the wi sest to

enunc iate a sat i sfa ctory defin i t i on of poetry

make i t a lmost presumptuous for a cr i t i c now to

attempt the task ; but from an ana lys i s of these

fa i lures one may educe someth ing rough ly to

serve the purpose. To say that poetry is the met

r ieg l express ion in words of thought fused in

emotion,i s of course incomp lete ; but i t has the

advantage of defin ing. No one can th ink that

anvth ing other than poetry i s intended by such

a defini t i on ; and noth ing i s exc luded that can

show a c lear c la im to adm ittance. But the poetry

of mere enumerat i ve descri pt i on might perhaps

not pass wi thout cha l lenge, so fa int i s the fl ame

O f i ts emot ion,so imperfect the fus i on of i ts

thought . It i s verse of th i s sort that i s meant

by und i scr im inat ing cr it i cs when they inveigh

aga inst “nature-poetry ,

”and dec lare that the

on ly poetry worth man ’s attent i on i s that wh i ch

has to do wi th the heart of man .

THE POE TR Y OE NATUR E . x i

Merely descr ipt ive poetry i s not very far re

moved from the work of the reporter and the

photographer . Lack ing the select ive qua l i ty of

creat i ve art,i t is in rea l i ty l i tt le more than a

representat i on of some O f the raw'

materials of

poetry . I t leaves the reader unmoved,because

l i tt le emot ion has gone to i ts making . Poetry of

th i s sort,

"at i ts best

,i s to be found abundant ly in

Thomson’s “ Seasons .

” At less than i ts best i t

concerns no one.

Nature becomes s i gn ificant to man when she

i s passed through the a lembi c of h i s heart . Ir

relevant and confusing deta i l s having been

purged away,what remains i s S ingle and vi ta l .

I t acts ei ther by interpret ing, reca l l ing, suggest

ing, or symbol i z ing some phase of human fee l ing.

O ut O f the fus ing heat born of th i s conta ct comes

the perfect l ine,l um inous

,unforgettable, wi th

someth ing of mystery in i ts beauty tha t el udes

ana lys i s . Whatever i t be that i s brought to the

a lembic,— naked h i l l

,or barren sand - reach , sea

or meadow,weed or star, - it comes out charged

w ith a new force,in

'

iper ishable and act i ve whe r

ever it finds sympath ies to v ibrate under its cur

rents .

In the imper i shable verse of anc ient ( iree ce.

and R ome,nature -poetry of the. h igher c la s s is

genera l ly supposed to play but a sma l l pa rt. In

rea l i ty,i t i s nearly a lways present , nea rlv a lwa vs

act i ve in that verse ; but i t“

appea rs in suc h a

d i sgu i se that i ts or ig in is a pt to be ove rlo oked .

The Greeks— and the R omans,of course , fo l l ow

ing thei r pattern—personified the phenomena o f

THE POE TR Y OF NATUR E .

nature t i l l these,for a l l purposes of art

,became

human . The Greeks made thei r anthropomorph i c

gods O f the forces of nature wh i ch compel led thei r

adorat i on . Of these personifications they sang,

as of men of l i ke pass i ons w i th themsel ves ; but

in truth i t was of externa l nature th at they

made thei r songs . Bi on ’s wa i l ing “Lament for

Adon i s,

” human as i t is throughout,i s in i ts fina l

analvsis a poem of nature. By an intense,but

perhaps unconsc i ous,subject ive process

,the ah

cients supp l ied externa l nature with thei r own

moods,impul ses

,and pass i ons .

The trans i t i ons from the anc ient to the modern

fashion of l ook ing at nature are to be found pr incipally in the work of the Cel t i c bards

,who

rather than the c l o i stered students of that t imekept a l i ve the true fire of poetry through the l ong

darkness of the Mi dd le Ages .

The modern att i tude toward nature,as d i st in

guished from that of the Greeks, begins to show

i tsel f c learly in E ngl i sh song very soon a fter the

great revi v i fying movement wh i ch we ca l l the

R ena i ssance.

'

At first, i t i s a very s imple matterindeed . Men s ing of nature because nature i s

i mpress ing them direct ly . A j oyous season ca l l s

forth a j oyous song :

Sum er is icum en in

Lhude s ing,cuccu.

Groweth sed and bloweth m ed

And springth the wude nu.

Th i s i s the poet’ s answer ing ha i l,when the

spring- t ime ca l l s to h i s blood . IVith the fa l l of

THE POE TR Y OF NATUR E .

the leaf, h i s s inging has a sombre and forebod ing

note ; and winter in the world makes winter in

h i s song.

Th i s i s nature-poetry in i ts s implest form,— the

form wh i ch i t ch iefly took with the spontaneousE l i zabethans . But i t soon became more complex

,

as l i fe and soc iety became entangled in more com

p lex condit ions . The artificialities of the Queen

Anne per i od del ayed th i s evo lut i on ; but wi th Grayand Co l l ins we see i t fa i rly in process . Man

,l ook

ing upon externa l nature,projects h imsel f into her

work ings . H is own wrath he apprehends in the

v i o lence of the storm ; h i s own j oy in the loveli

ness of Open ing blossoms ; h i s own mirth in the

l igh t waves runn ing in the sun ; h i s own gloom

in the heaviness of the ra in and wind . In a ll

nature he finds but phenomena of h imsel f. S he

becomes but an express ion of h i s hopes , his fea rs ,

h i s cravings,h i s despa i r . Th i s intense subj ee

tivity i s pecu l i arly character i st i c of the na ture

poetry produced by Byron and h i s school . Whenthat T i tan of modern song apostroph i zes the

storm thunder ing over Jura , he speaks to the.

tumu lt in the deeps of h i s own soul . When he

addresses the sta in less tranqui l l ities of c lea r,plac id moves h im to u tterance is

the contemplat i on of such a ca lm as his vexed

Sp i r i t O ften craved .

When man’s heart and the heart of na tu re. had

become thus c l osely invo lved . the re la t io nsh i p

between them and,consequent ly . the manne r « i f

i ts express i on in song became complex a lmos t be

yond the poss i b i l i t ies of ana lvs is .s

xiv THE POE TR Y OF NATUR E .

best poetry i s to be found in the utterances of

the h igh -priest in nature’s temple,interpret ing

the myster ies . The funct i on of the “ L ines Composed a Few Mi les Above T intern Abbey ” i s to

convey to a rest less age, troubled w i th smal l

cares seen in too c l ose perspect i ve,the l arge

,con

templative wi sdom wh i ch seemed‘

to Wordsworththe message of the scene wh i ch moved h im .

Keats,h i s sou l aname with the worsh ip of

beauty,was impassi oned toward the man i festa

t i ons of beauty in the worl d about h im ; and , at

the same t ime,he used these freely as symbol s to

express other aspects of the same compel l ing

Sp i r i t . S hel ley,the most complex of the group ,

somet imes combined al l these methods,as in the

“ O de to the West Wind .

’ But he added a new

note,—wh i ch was yet an echo of the o ldest

,— the

note of nature-worsh ip . H e saw cont inual ly in

nature the godhead wh ich he sought and adored,youthfu l protestat i ons and afiectations of athe i sm

to the contrary notw i thstand ing. Most of Shel

ley’s nature-poetry carries a r i ch vein of panthe

ism,a l l ied to that wh i ch co lors the O l dest verse

of t ime and part i cularly character i zes anc ient

Cel t i c song . Wi th th i s s i gn ificant and stimulat

ing rev i va l , goes a rev iva l of that strong sense of

k insh ip,of the oneness of earth and man

,wh i ch

the Greeks and Lat ins fel t so keen ly at t imes,wh i ch Omar knew and uttered , and wh i ch under

l ies so much of the verse of these l ater days .

That other uni ty— the un i ty of man and God,wh i ch forms so inevi table a coro l l ary to the

panthei st i c propos i t i on— comes to be dwel t upon

THE POE TR Y OF NATUR E . XV

more and more ins i stently throughout the naturepoetry of the last fifty years .

The ma in purpose of these br ief suggest i ons i s

to ca l l attent i on to the fact that nature-poetry

is not mere descr ipt i on of l andscape in metri ca l

form,but the express i on O f one or another of

many Vi ta l rel at i onsh ips between externa l natureand

“the deep heart of man .

” I t may touch the

subtlest chords of human emot ion and human

imaginat ion not less masterful ly than the verse

wh i ch sets out to be a d i rect transcr ipt from l i fe.

The most inaccess i b le truth s are apt to be reached

by indi rect i on . The d iv inest myster ies of beauty

are not possessed exc l us i ve ly by the eye tha t

l oves,or by the l i ps of a ch i l d , but are a l so man i

fested in some b i rd - song’s unforg‘otten cadence,some flower whose perfect i on p ierces the hea rt,some ineffable hue O f sunset or sunr i se that makes

the sp i r i t cry out for i t knows not wha t . And

whosoever fo l l ows the inexpl i cable l ure of beau tv.

in color,form

,sound

,perfume

,or any o ther

mani festat i on,— reach ing out to it as perhaps a

message from some unfathomable pas t. or a pro

moni t i on O f the future,— knows tha t the. m vs th

s igna l beckons nowhere more imperi ous l y than

from the hei ghts of nature -

poetrv.

y a m

PO EMS O F NAT UR E .

NAT UR E’

S INF LUE NCE .

THE WO RLD IS TO O MUCH “71 TH US .

S ONNET.

T H E World i s too much w i th us ; l ate and soon.

G ett ing and spend ing,we l ay waste our powers ;

L i tt le we see in nature that i s ours

We have given our hearts away , a sord id boon !

Th i s sea that bares her bosom to the moon ;The winds that w i l l be howl ing at a ll hours ,And are up

-gathered now l ike s leep ing flowers ;For th i s

,for everyth ing

,we are out of tune ;

I t moves us not — Great God ! I ’d ra ther be

A P agan suckled in a creed outworn.

S o might I,stand ing on th i s pleasant lea .

H ave gl impses tha t woul d make me. le ss fo rl orn :

Have s ight of Proteus ri s ing from the sea .

O r hear o ld T ri ton blow h is wreathed horn .

WI LL IAM wounswou'

rn .

4 POEMS OF NATURE .

EAR TH,O CEAN

,AIR .

FROM ALA STOR ; PRE EACE .

Nondum am abam , et amare am abam , quaerebam quid

amarem , am ans am are .

” —Confessions of S a int Augustine.

E ARTH,ocean

,a i r

,bel oved brotherhood !

I f our great mother has imbued my sou l

Wi th aught°

of natura l p iety to fee l

Your love,and recompense the boon with m ine ;

I f dewy morn,and O dorous noon

,and even

Wi th sunset and i ts gorgeous m in i sters,

And solemn midn ight ’s t ingl ing s i lentness ;If autumn’s ho l l ow sighs in the sere wood

,

And winter rob ing w ith pure snow and crowns

O f starry ice the gray grass and bare boughs

I f spring’s vo l uptuous pant ings when she

breathes

Her first sweet k i sses,have been dear to me ;

I f no bright bi rd,insect

,or gent le beast

I consc i ously have inj ured,but st i l l l oved

And cher i shed these my k indred ; then forgi veTh i s boast

,bel oved brethren

,and withdraw

NO port i on of your wonted favor now !

Mother of th i s unfathomable world

Favor my solemn song , for I have l oved

Thee ever,and thee on ly ; I have watched

Thy shadow,and the darkness of thy steps,

And my heart ever gazes on the depth

O f thy deep myster ies . I have made my bed

In charnel s and on coffins, where black death

NATUR E ’S INFLUE NCE . U!

Keeps record of the troph ies won from thee,

H op ing to st i l l these obst inate quest i on ings

O f thee and th ine,by forc ing some l one ghost

,

Thy messenger,to render up the tale

O f what we are. In l one and S i lent hours,

When n i gh t makes a wei rd sound of i ts own st i l lness

,

L ike an insp i red and desperate a l chemist

S tak ing h i s very l i fe on some dark hope,

H ave I m ixed awful ta l k and ask ing looks

Wi th my most innocent l ove,unt i l strange tears

Un i t ing w ith those breath less k i sses, made

S uch magi c a s compel s the charmed n i gh t

To render up thy charge :and,tho

’ne

’er vet

Thou hast unve i led thy inmost sanctuary ,E nough from incommun i cab le dream ,

And twi l ight phantasms,

and deep noondav

thoughtHas shone with in me

,that serenely now

And moveless,as a l ong - forgotten l vre

S uspended in a solitarv dome

Of some myster ious and deserted fame,

I wa i t thy breath,Great P arent. that mv stra in

May modul ate wi th murmurs of the a ir.

And moti ons of the forests and the sea

And vo i ce of l i v ing be ings, and woven hymns

O f ni ght and day,and the deep hea rt o f man .

P ERCY ur ssnn S H ELLEY.

6 P OEMS OF NATUR E .

ON A BEAUT IFUL DAY.

0 UN SEEN S p i r i t ! now a calm d iv ine

Comes forth from thee,rej oi c ing earth and a i r !

T rees,h i l l s

,and houses

,a l l d i st inctly sh ine

,

And thy great ocean s lumbers everywhere .

The mounta in r i dge aga inst the purp le skv

S tands c lear and strong,with darkened rocks

and del l s,

And c l oudless brightness Opens w i de and h igh

A home aer ia l,where thy presence dwel l s .

The ch ime of bel l s remote,the murmuring sea

,

The song of bi rds in wh i sper ing Copse and wood,

The d istant vo i ce of ch i l dren’s thought less glee,

And maiden’s songs,are a l l one vo i ce of good .

Amid the leaves ’ green mass a sunny p lay

Of flash and shadow st i rs l ike inward l i fe :The sh ip ’s wh i te sa i l g l i des onward far away,Unhaunted by a dream of storm or str i fe.

JOH N STERL I NG.

GOD IN NATURE .

FROM P ARACE LSU S .

”

I KNEW I fel t, (percept i on unexpressed

Uncomprehended by our narrow thought,But somehow fe l t and known in every sh i ft

And change in the sp i r i t,— nay , in every pore

O f the body, even ,) —what God i s , what we are,

What l i fe i s— how God tastes an infin i te j oy

8 POEMS OE NATUR E .

Above,b i rds fly in merry flocks

,the l ark

S oars up and up,sh i ver ing for very j oy ;

Afar the ocean s leeps ; wh i te fishing-gu l l s

Fl i t where the strand i s purp le with i ts tr ibe

O f nested l impets ; savage creatures seekThei r l oves in wood and pl a in— and God renews

H is anc ient rapture . T hus he dwel l s in a l l,

From l i fe’s m inute beginn ings,up at l ast

To man— the consummat ion of th i s scheme

O f being,the complet i on of th i s sphere

O f l i fe :whose attr ibutes had here and there

Been scattered o’er the v i s ible world before,

Ask ing to be comb ined,d im fragments meant

To be un i ted in some wondrous whole,

Imperfect qua l i t ies throughout creat ion,

S uggest ing some one creature yet to make,S ome point where a l l those scattered ravs shou ld

meet

Convergent in the facu l t ies of man .

ROBERT BROWN ING .

MY HE AR T LE APS UP .

MY heart leaps up when I beholdA ra inbow in the sky ;

S o was i t when my l i fe began,S O i s i t now I am a man ,

S O be i t when I sha l l grow ol d

O r let me d ie !

The Ch i l d i s father of the Man ;

And I coul d w i sh my days to be

Bound each to each by natura l p iety .

WI LL IAM WORDSWORTH .

NATUR E ’S INFLUENCE . 9

EACH AND ALL .

LITTLE th inks,in the fiel d

, you red - c l oakedc l own

,

Of thee from the h i l l -top look ing down ;The he i fer that l ows in the upland farm

,

Far -heard,l ows not th ine ear to charm ;

The sexton to l l ing h i s bel l at noon,Deems not that great Napoleon

S tops h i s horse,and l i sts wi th del i ght

,

Wh i l st h i s fi les sweep round you A l p ine height ;Nor knowest thou what argument

Thy l i fe to thy neighbor’s creed has lent .

All are needed by each one ;

Noth ing i s fa i r or good a l one.

I thought the sparrow ’s note from heaven,S inging at dawn on the al der bough ;I brought h im home

,in h i s nest, at even ;

He s ings the song,but i t p leases not now,

For I d i d not br ing home the r iver and sky

H e sang to my ear,—they sang to my eye.

The del i cate shel l s l ay on the shore ;The bubbles of the latest wave

Fresh pearl s to thei r enamel gave ;And the be l l owing of the savage sea

Greeted thei r safe escape to me .

I w iped away the weeds and foam ,

I fetched my sea -born treasures home

B ut the poor,uns ight ly , no i some th ings

Had left thei r beauty on the shore,

Wi th the sun and the sand and the wi l d uproar.

1 0 POEMS . OF NATUR E .

The l over watched h i s gracefu l mai d,

As mid the vi rgin tra in she strayed,

Nor knew her beauty ’s best att i re

Was woven st i l l by the snow -wh ite cho ir .

At l ast she came to h i s herm itage,

L i ke the b i rd from the woodlands to the cage

The gay enchantment was undone,

A gent le wife,but fa i ry none.

Then I sa i d I covet truth ;Beauty i s unr ipe Ch i l dhood ’s cheat ;I leave i t beh ind wi th the games of youth .

As I spoke,beneath my feet

The ground -p ine curled i ts pretty wreath

R unn ing over the c l ub -moss burrs ;I inhaled the V io let ’s breath ;Around me stood the oaks and firs ;Pine- cones and acorns l ay on the ground ;O ver me soared the eterna l sky

,

Ful l of l ight and of dei tyAga in I saw

,aga in I heard

,

The ro l l ing r i ver,the morn ing bi rd ;

Beauty through my senses sto le ;I y ielded mysel f to the perfect whole.

RALP H WALDO EMERSON .

THE COUNTRY FAITH .

HERE in the country’s heart

Where the grass i s green,

L i fe i s the same sweet l i fe

As i t e’er hath been.

NATUR E ’S INFLUE NCE . 1 1

T rust in a God st i l l l i ves,

And the bel l a t morn

Floats wi th a thought of God

O’er the r i s ing corn .

God comes down in the ra in,

And the crop grows ta l l

This i s the country fa i th,

And the best of a l l !

NORMAN GALE .

T INTE RN ABBE Y .

F IVE years have past ; five summers,with the

length

O f five l ong winters ! and aga in I hear

These waters,

* ro l l ing from the i r mounta in

spr ings

Wi th a soft inl and murmur .— O nce aga in

Do I behol d these steep and loftv cl i ffs ,That on a wi ld

,sec luded scene impress

Thoughts of more deep sec l us i on ,and connect

The l andscape wi th the qu iet of the skv.

The day i s come when I aga in repose

Here , under th i s sycamore, and v iew

These plots of cottage-ground,these o rchard

tufts,

Wh i ch,at th i s season, with the i r unri pe frui ts

Are c l ad in one green hue . and l ose themsel ves

Mid groves and copses . Once aga in I see

These hedge - rows,hard lv hedge-rows . l i t tle l ines

O f Sport i ve wood run wi l d :these pa s tora l fa rms .

The R iverWy e .

1 2 POEMS OF NATUR E .

Green to the very door ; and wreaths of smokeSent up

,in s i lence

,from among the trees !

Wi th some uncerta in not i ce, as m ight seem

O f vagrant dwel lers in the houseless woods

O r of some herm it ’s cave,where by h is fire

The herm i t s i ts a l one.

T hese beauteous forms,Through a long absence

,have not been to me

As i s a landscape to a b l ind man’s eye ;But oft

,in l onely rooms

,and mid the d in

O f towns and c i t ies,I h ave owed to them

,

In hours of wear iness,sensat i ons sweet ,

Fel t in the bl ood,and fel t a l ong the heart ;

And pass ing even into my purer m ind,

Wi th tranqu i l restorat i on z— feel ings too

O f unremembered p leasure : such,perhaps

,

As have no sl i ght or tr i v i a l influence

On that best port i on of a good man ’s l i fe

H is l i tt le,nameless

,unremembered acts

O f k indness and of l ove. Nor less,I trust

To them I may have owed another gi ft,

O f aspect more sub l ime ; that b lessed moodIn wh i ch the burden of the mystery ,In wh i ch the heavy and the weary weight

O f a l l th i s un intel l i g ible worl d,I s l ightened

,— that serene and blessed mood,

In wh i ch the affect ions gent ly lead us on

Unt i l , the breath O f th i s corporea l frame

And even the mot i on of our human b loodA lmost suspended, we are l a id as leepIn body

,and become a l i v ing soul

Wh i le with an eye made quiet by the power

Of harmony,and the deep power of j oy ,

NATUR E ’S INFLUENCE . 1 3

We see into the l i fe O f th ings .

I f th i sB e but a va in bel ief

, yet, 0 ,how oft

In darkness and amid the many shapes

O f j oy less day l ight ; when the fretful st i r

Unprofitable,‘

and the fever of the world,

H ave hung upon the beat ings of my heart

How oft,in sp i r i t

,have I turned to thee.

O syl vanWye ! thou wanderer through the woods,How often has my sp i ri t turned to thee !

And now,wi th gleams of ha l f-ext ingui shed

thought

Wi th many recogn i t i ons d im and fa int,

And somewhat of a sad perp lex i tyThe p i cture of the mind rev i ves aga in :

\Vhile here I stand,not only w i th the sense

O f present p leasure,but wi th pleas ing thoughts

That in th i s moment there i s l i fe and food

For future years . And so I dare to hope,Though changed

,no doubt

,from wha t I was when

first

I came among these h i l l s ; when l ike a roe

I bounded o’er the mounta ins , by the s i des

O f the deep ri vers,and the l onel y streams

,

I’Vherever nature led :more l i ke, a man

Fly ing from someth ing tha t he dreads . than one

Who sough t the th ing he l oved . For nature then

(The coarser p lea sures of my bo y ish da vs

And thei r gl ad an ima l movements all gone b v)

To me was a l l in a l l . — l cannot pa int

What then .I was . The. sound ing ca ta rac t

Haunted me l i ke a pa ss i on : the ta ll rock ,


The mounta in,and the deep and gloomy wood

The i r co lors and the i r forms,were then to me

An appet i te ; a feel ing and a l ove,

That had no need of a remoter charm

By thought supp l ied,nor any interest

Unborrowed from the eye— That t ime i s past

,

And a l l i ts ach ing j oys are now no more,

And al l i ts d izzy raptures . Not for th i s

Fa int I,nor mourn nor murmur ; other gi fts

H ave fo l l owed ; for such l oss, I woul d bel ieve,Abundant recompense. For I have learned

To l ook on nature,not as in the hour

O f thought less youth ; but hearing oftent imes

The st i l l,sad mus i c of human i ty

,

Nor harsh nor grat ing,though of ample power

To chasten and subdue. And I have fe l t

A presence that d i sturbs me with the j oy

O f elevated thoughts ; a sense subl ime

O f someth ing far more deeply interfused ,Whose dwel l ing i s the l i gh t of sett ing suns,And the round ocean, and the l i v ing a i r,And the blue sky

,and in the mind of man

A moti on and a sp i r i t, that impel s

All th ink ing th ings,a l l O bjects of al l thought .

And ro l l s through a l l th ings . T herefore am I

st i l l

A l over of the meadows and the woods ,And mounta ins ; and of all that we behol d

From th i s green earth ; of a l l the mighty worl d

O f eye, and ear,— both what they ha l f create

This line has a close resemblance to an adm irable

line of Young’

s , the exact expression of which I do not

Tecollect.”—THE AUTHOR .


Into a sober pleasure ; when thy m ind

S ha l l be a mans i on for a l l l ovely forms,

Thy memory be as a dwel l ing-place

For a l l sweet sounds and harmon ies ; 0 ,then

If so l i tude or fear or pa in or grief

Shoul d be thy porti on,wi th what hea l ing thought

O f tender j oy w i l t thou remember me,

And these my exhortat i ons ! Nor,perchance

,

I f I shoul d be where I no more can hear

Thy vo i ce,nor catch from thv wi ld eyes thes

gleams

O f past exi stence,— wi l t thou then forget

That on the bank s of th i s del ightfu l streamWe stood together ; and that I , so l ong

A worsh ipper of Nature , h i ther came

Unwearied in that service ? rather say

lVith warmer l ove,—O

,w i th far deeper zeal

O f hol ier l ove. Nor w i l t thou then forget

That after many wanderings,many years

O f absence, these steep woods and loftv c l iffs .

And th i s green pastora l l andscape,were to me

More dear,both for themsel ves and for thy sake !

W I LL IAM WORDSWORTH .

GREAT NATUR E IS AN ARMY GAY.

GREAT Nature i s an army gay,R es i st less march ing on its way ;

I hear the bugles c lear and sweet,I hear the tread of m i l l i on feet .

Across the p la in I see i t pour ;I t tramples down the waving grass ;

NATUR E ’S INFLUE NCE . 1 7

Wi th in the echoing mounta in-pass

I hear a thousand cannon roar.

I t swarms wi th in my garden gate ;My deepest we l l i t dr inketh dry .

I t doth not rest ; i t doth not wai t ;By n i ght and day i t sweepeth by ;Ceaseless i t marches by my door ;I t heeds me not

,though I implore.

I know not whence i t comes,nor where

I t goes . For me i t doth not care

VVhether I starve,or eat

,or sleep

,

O r l i ve,or die

,or s ing

,or weep .

And now the banners are a l l bright,Now torn and bl ackened by the fight .S omet imes i ts l aughter shakes the sky ,S omet imes the groans O f those who d ie.

S t i l l through the n igh t and through the l i vel ong

dayThe infin i te army marches on its remorseless wav.

R ICH ARD WATSON G I LDER .

COME TO THE SE S CE NE S OF PEACE .

COM E to these scenes of peace,Where

,to r i vers murmuring ,

The sweet b i rds a l l the summer s ing ,

Where cares and to i l and sadnes s cease !

S tranger,does thy heart deplore

Friends whom thou wi l t see no more ?

D oes thy wounded sp i r i t prove

P angs of hopeless,severed l ove


Thee the stream that gushes c lear,

Thee the b i rd s that caro l near

Shal l soothe,as s i lent thou dost lie

And dream of the i r w i l d lu l l aby ;Come to b less these scenes of peace

,

Where cares and to i l and sadness cease.

W I LL IAM L I SL'

E B OWLES .

ODE ON THE PLE ASUR E AR IS ING

FR OM V IC IS S ITUD E .

Now the go lden Morn al oft

Waves her dew-bespangled wing

Wi th verme i l cheek and wh i sper soft

She woos the tardy S pr ing :

T i l l Apri l starts,and ca l l s around

The sleep ing fragrance from the ground .

And l ight ly o’er the l i v ing scene

S catters h i s freshest,tenderest green.

New-born flocks,in rust i c dance

,

Fri sk ing p ly thei r feeble feet °

Forgetfu l O f thei r w intry trance

The b i rds h i s presence greet :

But ch ief,the Skylark warb les h igh

H is trembl ing thri l l ing ecstasy ;And lessen ing from the dazz led sight

Mel ts into a i r and l i qu i d l ight .

Yesterday the sul len year

S aw the snowy wh i r lwind fly ;Mute was the mus i c of the a i r,The herd stood droop ing by

NATUR E ’S INFLUE NCE .

Thei r raptures now that w i l d ly flow

No yesterday nor morrow know’T i s Man a lone that j oy descriesWi th forward and reverted eyes .

Smi les on past m i sfortune’s brow

S oft reflection’s hand can trace

,

And o’er the cheek of sorrow throw

A melancholv grace ;“

'

h i le hope pro l ongs our happ ier hour

Or deepest shades,that d imly lour

And blacken round our weary way ,G i l ds w ith a gleam O f d i stant day .

S t i l l,where rosy pleasure leads

S ee a k indred grief pursue ;Beh ind the steps that m i sery treads

Approach ing comfort V iew :

The hues O f bl i ss more brightlv glow

Chast i sed by sabler t ints of woe ,

And blended form ,wi th artful stri fe,

The strength and harmony of l i fe .

See the wretch that l ong has tost

O n the thorn y bed of pa in.

At length repa i r h is vigor l os t

And breathe and wa l k aga in :

The meanest fl oweret of the va le.

The s imples t note tha t swe l l s the ga le ,

The common sun,the a ir. the sk ies .

T O h im are O pen ing Parad ise .

T l l OMAS GRAY.

20 POEMS OF NATUR E .

NATURE .

TH E bubbl ing brook doth leap when I come by,

Because my feet find measure Wi th i ts cal lThe b i rds know when the fr iend they l ove i s n igh

For I am known to them,both great and sma l l .

The fl ower that on the l onel y h i l l s i de grows

E xpects me therewhen'

sprmg Its bl oom has gi venAnd many a tree and bush my wander ings knows

And e’en the c l ouds and s i lent stars of heaven ;

For he who with h i s Maker wa lks aright,

S ha l l be thei r l ord as Adam was before ;H is ear sha l l catch each sound w i th new del i ght

E ach Object wear the dress that then i t wore ;And he

,as when erect in sou l he stood

,

Hear from h i s Father ’s l ips that a l l i s good .

JONE S VERY.

INFLUE NCE OF NATURAL O BJE CTS .

FR OM “T HE P R EL U DE

,I .

WI SDOM and S p i r i t of the un i verse !

Thou S oul , that art the eternitv of thought !

And giv’st to forms and images a breath

And ever last ing moti on ! not in va in,

By day or star- l i ght,thus from my first dawn

O f ch i l dhood d idst thou intertw ine for me

The pass i ons that bu i l d up our human sou l

Not wi th the mean and vulgar works of Man,

But wi th h igh objects,with enduring th ings,

Wi th L ife and Nature ; puri fy ing thus

NATURE ’S INFLUE NCE . 2 1

The elements of feel ing and of thought,

And sanct i fy ing by such d i sc ip l ineBoth pa in and fear

,—unt i l we recogni ze

A grandeur in the beat ings of the heart .

Nor was th i s fel l owsh ip vouch safed to me

Wi th st inted k indness . In November days,

When vapors ro l l ing down the va l leys made

A l onely scene more l onesome ; among woods

At noon ; and’mi d the ca lm of summer n i ghts

,

When,by the margin of the trembl ing lake

Beneath the gloomy h i l l s,homeward I went

In so l i tude,such intercourse was m ine .

Mine was i t in the fields both dav and n igh t.

And by the waters,a l l the S ummer l ong ;

And in the frosty season,when the sun

Was set,and

,vi s ib le for many a m i le

,

The cottage windows through the twi l igh t blazed

I heeded not the summons . H appy t ime

I t was indeed for a l l o f us ; for me

I t was a t ime’

O f rapture ! C lear and loud

The vi l l age- c l ock to l led S ix ; I whee led abou t,

P roud and exu l t ing l ike an unt i red horse

That cares not for h i s home . A ll shod w ith steel ,

We h i ssed a l ong the pol i shed ice, in games

Confederate,im i tat i ve of the chase

And woodland plea sures ,— the resound ing bo rn.

The pack loud -ch im ing,and the hunted ha re .

So through the darkness and the cold we flew,

And not a vo i ce was i d le . Wi th the d in

Smitten,the prec i p i ces rang a l oud ;

The leafless trees and every icv c rag

T ink led l ike i ron ; wh i le far-d i s tant h i l l s

Into the tumul t sent an a l ien sound

22 P OE JIS OF NATUR E .

O f melancho ly,not unnot i ced ; wh i le the stars,

E astward,were spark l ing c lear

,and in the west

The orange sky. of even ing died away .

Not sel dom from the uproar I ret i red

Into a si lent bay,or sport i vely

G lanced si deway,leaving the tumultuous throng

,

To cut across the reflex of a star

Image,that

,fly ing st i l l before me

,gleamed

Upon the glassy p la in . And oftent imes,

When we had gi ven our bod ies to the wind

And a l l the shadowy banks on e i ther s i de

Came sweep ing thro ’ the darkness , sp inn ing st i l lThe rap i d l ine of mot ion

,then at once

H ave I,rec l in ing back upon my heel s

S topped short ; yet st i l l the so l i tary clifi s

Wheeled by me,— even as i f the E arth had ro l led

“'

i th Vi s ib le mot i on her d iurna l round !

Beh ind me d i d they stretch in so lemn tra in,

Feebler and feebler ; and I stood and watchedT i l l a l l was tranqui l as a summer sea .

.W I LL IAM WORDSWO RTH .

AN IND IAN SONG .

O WANDERER in the southern weather,O ur i s le awa i ts us ; on each lea

The pea-hens dance ; in cr imson feather

A parrot swaying on a tree

R ages at h i s own image in the enamel led

There dreamy T ime lets fa l l h i s s i ck leAnd L i fe the sanda l s of her fieetness,


The sun,above the mounta in’s head

,

A freshen ing lustre me l l ow

T hrough a l l the l ong green fiel ds has spread,

H is first sweet even ing yel l ow .

Books ! ’t i s a dul l and endless str i fe ;

Come,hear the woodland l innet

H ow sweet h i s mus i c ! on my l i fe,

There ’s more of w i sdom in i t !

And hark ! how b l i the the throstle s ings !

He,too

,i s no mean preacher ;

Come forth into the l i ght of th ings

Let Nature be your teacher .

She has a worl d of ready wea l th,

O ur minds and hearts to b less,

Spontaneous wi sdom breathed by hea l th,

T ruth breathed by cheerfulness .

O ne impul se from a verna l woodMay teach you more of man

,

O f mora l evi l and of good,

T han a l l the sages can.

Sweet i s the l ore wh i ch nature brings ;Our meddl ing intel lect

Mi sshapes the beauteous forms of th ings

W’

e murder to d i ssect .

E nough of sc ience and of art ;Close up those barren leaves ;

Come forth,and br ing with you a heart

That watches and rece i ves .

W I LL IAM w oanswom‘

H .

“M U U I \ \ J 4 L- l u i u “

NATURE ’S INFLUE NCE .

RUS IN URBE .

P om s are s inging the whole worl d over

O f May in mel ody , j oys for June ;D ust ing thei r feet in the care less c l over

,

' And fi l l ing the i r hearts wi th the blackbi rd ’s

tune.

The“ brown bri ght n ight inga le str ikes w ith

p i ty

The sens i t i ve heart of a count or d own

But where i s the song for our leafv citv,

And where the rhymes for our l ovely town ?

0 for the Thames,and i ts r ippl ing reaches ,

Where a lmond rushes, and breezes spor t !Take me a wa lk under Burnham B eeches ;

Give me a d inner at H ampton Court ! ”

P oets,be st i l l

,though your hearts I harden ;

We’ve fl owers by day and have scents a t dark ,

The l imes are in leaf in the cockney garden,

And l i l acs bl ossom in R egent ’s Park .

Come for a b l ow ,says a reck less fel l ow,

Burned red and brown bv pass iona te sun ;

Come to the downs , where the gorse. is ve lloW°

The season of k i sses has just begun !Come to the fiel ds where bl uebel l s sh iver,

Hear cuckoo ’s carol , or pla int o i'

dove ;

Come for a row on the s i lent ri ver ;Come to the meadows and lea rn to love

!

Yes,I w i l l come when ° th is wea l th is over

Of softened col or and perfec t tone

The l i l a c ’s better than fie ld s o f « l ove r:

I ’1 1 come when the bl ossom ing .\la.v has tlown.


When dust and d irt of a trampled c i tyHave dragged the yel l ow laburnum down

,

I ’ll take my hol i day— more ’s the p ity

And turn my back upon London town .

Margaret ! am I so wrong to love i t,

Th i s m i sty town that your face sh ines through

A crown of bl ossom i s waved above i t ;But heart and l i fe of the wh i rl— ’

t is you!

Margaret ! pearl ! I have sought and found you ;And

,though the paths of the wind are free

,

I ’ll fo l l ow the wavs of the world around you

,

And bu i l d my nest on the nearest tree !

CLEMENT SCOTT.

THE FAUN .

A FRAGM EN T .

I WI LL go out to grass w ith that o l d King,

For I am weary of c lothes and cooks .

I l ong to lie a long the banks of brooks,

And watch the boughs above me sway and swing.

Come,I w i l l p l uck off custom ’s l i very

,

Nor l onger be a l ackey to o ld T ime,

T ime sha l l serve me,and at my feet sha l l fl ing

The spo i l of l i st less m inutes . I sha l l c l imb

The wi l d trees for my food,and run

T hrough dale and upl and as the fox runs free,Laugh for coo l j oy and sleep i ’ the warm sun

,

And men wi l l ca l l me mad,l i ke that o l d King .

For I am wood land -natured,and have made

D ryads my bedfel l ows,

NATUR E ’S INFLUE NCE . 27

And I have played

Wi th the s leek Na iads in the sp l ash of the pool sAnd made a mock of gowned and trousered foo l s .

Helen,none knows

Better than thou how l i ke a Faun I strayed .

And I am hal f Faun now,and my heart goes

Out to the forest and the crack of twigs,

The dri p of wet leaves and the l ow soft l aughter

O f brooks that chuck le o’er ol d mossy jests

And say them over to themsel ves,the nests

O f squ i rrel s and the holes the ch i pmunk d igs,‘Where through the branches the sl ant raysD apple with sun l ight the leaf -matted ground ,And the wind comes wi th bl own vestures rust l ing

after,

And through the woven l att i ce of cri sp sound

A b i rd ’s song l ightens l ike a ma iden’s face .

0 wi l dwood Helen,let them stri ve and fret,

Those goggled -men with thei r d issect ing -kn i ves !

Let them in charnel -houses pass the i r l i ves

And seek in death l i fe’s secret ! And let

Those hard - faced world l ings premature l y o ld

( i naw the i r th in l ips w i th va in des i re to get

P ort i a ’s fa i r fame or Lesb ia ’s carcanet,

O r crown of Caesar or Ca tu l lus ,Ap i c i us ’ l ampreys or C rassus ’ go l d !

For these cons ider many th ings— but vet

By land or sea

They sha l l not find the way to Arcadv.

The old home of the awful hea rt -dea r Mo the r.

Whereto ch i l d -dreams and l ong rememberings

lul l


Far from the cares that over lay and smother

The memories of o l d woodland out -door m i rth

In the d im first l i fe-burst centur ies a go,The sense of the freedom and nearness of E arth

Nay,th i s they shal l not know ;

For who goes th i ther,

Leaves a l l the cark ‘

and c l utch of h i s sou l beh ind,

The doves defi led and the serpents shr ined,

The hates that wax and the hopes that w ither ;Nor does he j ourney

,seek ing where i t be

,

But wakes and finds h imse l f in Arcady .

H i st ! there ’s a st i r in the brush .

“fas i t a face through the leaves ?

Back of the l aurel s a skurry and rush

H i l lward,then s i lence

.

except for the thrush

T hat throws one song from the dark of the bush

And i s gone ; and I p l unge in the wood, and the

sw ift sou l c leaves

Through the swi rl and the flow of the leaves

As a swimmer stands w ith h i s wh i te l imbs bareto the sun

For the space that a breath i s hel d, and drops in

the sea ;

And the undulant wood land folds round me,ih

t imate,fluctuant

,free

,

L ike the c lasp and the c l ing of the waters,and

the reach and the effort i s done,

There i s only the gl ory of l i v ing, exultant to be.

0 good ly damp smel l of the ground !O rough sweet bark of the trees !

O c lear sharp crack l ings of sound !

NATUR E ’S INFLUE NCE . 29

0 l i fe that ’s a - thr i l l and a -bound

Wi th the vigor of boyhood and morning,and the

noont i de’s rapture of ease!

Was there ever a weary heart in the world ?

A l ag in the body ’s urge or a flag of the sp i r i ts

wings ?

D id a man’s heart ever break

For a lost hope’s sake 9

For here there i s l i l t in the qu iet and ca lm in the

qu iver of th ings .

Ay , th i s o l d oak , gray -grown and knurled

S o lemn and sturdy and b ig ,

I s as young of heart,as alert and elate in h is res t,

As the nuthatch there that c l ings to the t i p of the

twig

And scol ds at the wind that buffets too rudel y

i ts nest .

Oh,what i s i t breathes in the ai r ?

O h,what i s i t touches my cheek

There ’s a sense of a presence that lurksbranches .

But where ?

I s i t far,i s i t far to seek ?

R ICH ARD

L IGHT :DAY :N IGHT .

INVO CAT ION TO L IGHT .

FR OM “P AR AD I S E L O S T

,B O OK I I I .

H A I L,holy L ight

,offspr ing of H eaven first-born !

O r of the E terna l coeternal beam

May I express thee unblamed ? s ince God i s l ight,And never but in unapproached l ight

Dwel t from etern i ty,dwe l t then in thee

,

Bright effluence of br ight essence increate !

O r hear ’st thou rather pure ethereal stream,

Whose founta in who sha l l tel l ? Before the sun

Before the heavens,thou wert

,and at the vo i ce

O f God,as w ith a mant le , d id invest

The r i s ing worl d of waters dark and deep,

Won from the vo i d and formless infin i te.

Thee I revi s i t now wi th bolder wing,

E scaped the S tygi an pool,though l ong deta ined

In that obscure soj ourn,whi le in my fl i gh t

T hrough utter and through m idd le darknessborne

,

W'

i th other notes than to the Orphean lyre,I sung of Chaos and eterna l Night,T aught by the heaven ly Muse to venture down

The dark descent , and up to reascend,50


I rrad iate ; there p lant eyes , a l l m i st from thence

Purge and d i sperse,that I may see and tel l

O f th ings invi s ible to morta l s ight .

M I LTON .

L IGHT .

FROM P ARAD I SE LO ST,

B OOK VII.

LE T there be l i ght,

” God sa i d ; and forthw ith

L i ght

E therea l,

first of th ings,qu intessence pure

,

Sprung from the deep ; and from her nat i ve east

To j ourney through the aery gloom began,

Sphered in a rad iant c l oud,for yet the Sun

wa s not ; She in a cl oudy tabernacle

S oj ourned the wh i le. God saw the l ight was

good ;And l i ght from darkness bv the hemisphereD i v i ded :l i ght the D ay , and darkness Night,He named .

M ILTON .

L IGHT .

TH OU art the j oy of age

Thy sun i s dear when l ong the Shadow fa l l s .

Forth to its friendl iness the o l d man crawl s,And

,l i ke the b i rd hung in h is poor cage

To gather song from radiance,in h i s cha i r

S i ts bv the door ; and s i tteth there

H is sou l w i th in h im ,l i ke a ch i l d that l ies

Ha l f dream ing, with ha l f-open eyes ,

At c lose of a l ong afternoon in summer

H igh ru ins around h im ,anc ient ru ins , where

The raven i s a lmost the on ly comer ;

LIGH T:DAY:NIGH T . 33

IHalf dreams , hal f broods, in wondermentAt thy celest i a l descent

,

Through r i fted Ioops al ight ing on the gold

That waves i ts b l oom in manv an ai ry rent

So dreams the o l d man ’s sou l,that i s not old,

But sleepy ’mid the ru ins that enfo l d .

What sou l - l i ke changes,evanescent moods

,

Upon the face of the st i l l pass i ve earth,

I ts h i l l s,and fiel d s

,and woods

,

Thou w i th thy seasons and thy hours art ever ca l l

ing forth !

E ven l ike a l ord of mus ic bentO ver h i s instrument

,

Who gives to tears and sm i les an equa l bi rth

When c lear as ho l iness the morn ing ray

Casts the rock ’s dewy darkness at its feet

Mott l ing with shadows a ll the mounta in gray ;

When,at the hour of sovere i gn noon,

Infini te s i lent catarac ts sheet

Shadowless through the a i r of thumler -breed ing

June ;And when a y el l ower glory [s lanting pa s ses’Twixt l onger shadows o

’er the meadow gra s ses ;

\Vhen now the moon l i fts up her sh in ing sh ield .

H i gh on the peak of a cl oud -h i l l revea led ;

Now crescent,low

,wander ing sun -dazed awa v.

Unconsc ious of her own star -mingled ra v.

Her st i l l face seeming more to th ink than see .

Makes the pa le worl d l ie d reaming d reams o f

thee !

No mood of m ind,no me l od y o f soul ,

But l ies wi th in thv s i lent so ft control .

V


O f Operat i ve s ingle power,

And s imp le un i ty the one emblem,

Yet a l l the co lors that our pass i onate eyes devour,

In ra inbow,moonbow

,or in opa l gem ,

Are the me l od i ous descant of d i v i ded thee .

Lo thee in yel l ow sands ! l o thee

In the blue a i r and sea!

In the green corn,with scar let popp ies l i t

Thy ha l f soul s parted, pat ient thou d ost s i t .

Lo thee in speech less g l or ies of the west !

Lo thee in dewdrop ’s t iny breast !

Thee on the vast wh ite c l oud that floats away,

Bearing upon i ts sk i rt a brown moon - ray !

R egent of co l or,thou dost fl ing

Thy overflowing sk i l l on everyth ing !

The thousand hues and shades upon the fl owersAre a l l the past ime of thy le i sure hours ;And a l l the jewe l led ores In mines that h i dden be

dead t i l l touched by thee.

G E O R G E MACDONAL D .

THE NOR TH E RN L IGHT S .

To c la im the Arct i c came the sun

Wi th banners of the burn ing zone.

Unrol led upon thei r a i ry spars,

They froze beneath the l i ght of stars ;And there they float

,those streamers ol d

Those Northern L i ghts,forever co ld !

B E NJAM IN FR ANKL IN TAYL OR .


FROM THE “ HYMN TO L IGHT .

SAY,from what golden qu i vers of the sky

D o a l l thy winged arrows fly ?

Swiftness and Power by b i rth are th ine :

From thy great s i re they came,thy s ire

,the Word

D i v ine.

Thou in the Moon’s bright char iot,proud and

gay,

D ost thy br ight wood of stars survey ;And a l l the year dost w i th thee bring

O f thousand flowery l ights th ine own nocturna l

Spring .

Thou,S cyth i an - l i ke

,dost round thy land s

above

The S un’s g i l t tent forever move ,

And st i l l,as thou in pomp dos t go ,

The sh in ing pageants of the worl d a ttend thy

show .

Nor amidst a l l these tr iumphs dos t thou scorn

The humble gl ow -worms to adorn ,

And w ith those l i v ing spangl es gi ld

(O greatness w i thout pride ! ) the bushe s o f the

fiel d .

Night and her ugly subjects thou dos t frigh t,And S leep

,the lazy owl of nigh t ;

36 PO EMS OF NATUR E .

Ashamed and fearfu l to appear,

They screen thei r horr i d shapes w i th the blac

hemi sphere.

At thy appearance,Grief i tsel f i s sa i d

To shake h i s wings, and rouse h i s head

And c l oudy Care has often took

A gent le beamy smi le,reflected from thy l ook .

At thy appearance,Fear i tsel f grows bol d ;

The sunsh ine me l ts away h i s col d .

E ncouraged at the s i ght of thee

To the cheek col or comes,and firmness to

knee.

When,goddess

,thou lift

’st up thv wakened

head

Out of the morn ing’s purp le bed,Thy qui re of b irds about thee pl ay,

And a l l the j oyful worl d sa l utes the ri s ing day .

A ll the worl d ’s bravery,that del ights our eyes,

I s but thy severa l l iver ies

Thou the r i ch dye on them bestow’st

Thy n imble penc i l pa ints th i s landscape as thou

go ’st .

A crimson.

garment in the rose thou wear’st ;A crown of studded go ld thou bear

'

st ;

The v i rgin - l i l ies,in thei r wh i te.

c lad but w i th the l awn of a lmost nakedl ight .

LIGH T :DAY:NIGH T . 37

The v i o let, S pring’s l i tt le infant

,stands

G i rt in thy purp le swaddl ing-bandS °

O n the fa i r tul ip thou dost dote ;Thou cloth

’st i t in a gay and party - co lored coat .

Through the soft ways of heaven,and a i r

,and

sea,

Wh i ch Open a l l the i r pores to thee,

L i ke a c lear r iver thou dost gl i de ,

And with thy l i ving stream through the c l ose

channe l s sl i de.

But the vast ocean of unbounded day,In the empyrean heaven does stay .

Thy ri vers, l akes, and springs , bel ow,

F rom thence took first the i r ri se, th ither at

must flow .

ABRAH AM COWLEY.

DAYB R E AK .

A WI ND came up out of the sea,

And sa i d,

“ O mi sts,make room for me !

”

I t ha i led the sh i ps , and cr ied , S a i l on,

Ye mariners,the n i gh t is gone

And hurr ied landward far awa y .

vCry ing,

“ Awake ! i t i s the ( lav

I t sa id unto the forest , S hout !

H ang a l l your leafy banners out !”

38” POEMS OF NATURE .

I t touched the wood -b ird’s fo lded w ingAnd sa i d

,0 b i rd, awake and s ing ! ”

And o’er the farms

,O Chant i c leer

,

Your clarIon bl ow ; the day i s near !”

I t wh i spered to the fiel ds of corn,

Bow down,and ha i l the coming morn ! ”

I t shouted through the bel fry - tower,

Awake,0 bel l ! procl a im the hour .

I t crossed the churchyard with a s igh,

And sa i d . Not yet ! in quiet lie.

”

H ENRY WAD SWORTH LONGFELLOW.

DAWN .

TH E n i ght was dark,though somet imes a fa int

star

A l i tt le wh i le a l i tt le space made bright .

The n ight was l ong and l ike an i ron bar

Lay heavy on the l and :t i l l o’er the sea

S l owly,with in the E ast

,there grew a l ight

Wh i ch ha lf was starl ight, and hal f seemed to be

The hera l d of a greater . The pa le Wh i te

Turned sl owly to pale rose, and up the he igh t

O f heaven s lowly c l imbed . The gray sea grew

R ose- co l ored l ike the sky . A wh i te gul l flew

S tra ight toward the utmost boundary of the E ast,Where s l owly the rose gathered and increas ed .

I t was as on the Open ing of a door


The aged crone keeps house a lone,

The reapers to the fiel ds are gone.

Lose not these hours,so coo l

,so gay :

Lo ! Wh i le thou sleep’st they haste away !

JOANNA B A I LL IE .

MORNING .

IN the barn the tenant cock,

Close to part let perched on h igh,

B risklv crows (the shepherd’s c l ock ! )

Jocund that the morn ing ’s n i gh .

Swi ft ly from the mounta in’s brow ,

S hadows,nursed by n ight

,ret i re :

And the peep ing sunbeam now

Paints wi th gol d the V i l l age sp i re.

P h i lome l forsakes the thornPla int i ve Where She prates at n ight ;

And the l ark,to meet the morn

,

S oars beyond the shepherd ’s s ight .

From the l ow -roofed cottage r i dge,

See the chattering swal l ow spr ing ;D arting through the one-arched bri dge,Qui ck she d ips her dapp led w ing .

Now the p ine-tree’s wav ing top

Gent ly greets the morn ing ga le

Kid l ings now begin to crop

D a i s ies,on the dewy da le.

LIGH T:DAY:NIGHT .

From the ba lmy sweets,unc l oyed

(R est less t i l l her task be done ) ,Now the busy bee ’

s employed

S i pp ing dew before the sun.

T r i ck l ing through the crevi ced rock ,

Where the l imp id stream di st i l s,

Sweet refreshment wa i ts the fl ockWhen ’

t i s sun -drove from the h i l l s .

Col in ’s for the promi sed corn

(E re the harvest hopes are ripe)Anx ious — wh i l st the huntsman’s horn

,

Bold ly sound ing,drowns h i s p ipe.

Sweet,0 sweet

,the warbl ing throng ,

O n the wh i te emblossomed spray !

Nature’s un i versa l song

E choes to the r i s ing day .

JOH N CUNN INGHAM .

PACK CLOUD S AWAY.

PACK c louds away,and wel come da y ,

Wi th n i ght we ban i sh sorrow ;Sweet a i r

,bl ow soft ; mount , lark ,

a l oft .

To give my love good morrow .

Wings from the wind to please her mind ,

Notes from the l ark I ’l l borrow :

B ird,prune thy w ing ; n i ght inga le . s ing.

To give my love good morrow.

To give mv l ove good morrow.

Notes from them a ll 1’Il borrow .


Wake from thy nest,rob in redbreast

S ing,bi rds

,in every furrow ;

And from each h i l l let musi c shri l l

G i ve my fa i r l ove good morrow .

Blackb i rd and thrush in every bush,

S tare,l innet

,and cock - sparrow

,

You petty el ves,amongst yourse l ves

S ing my fa i r l ove good morrow .

To gi ve my love good morrow,

S ing,b i rds

,in every furrow

TH OMAS H EYWOOD.

MORNING .

FROM TH E M I N STREL .

B UT who the mel od ies of morn can tel l ?

The wi ld brook babbl ing down the mounta in

s i de ;The l owing herd ; the sheepfo l d

’s s imple bel l ;The p ipe of ear ly shepherd d im descr ied

In the l one va l ley ; echo ing far and wide

The c l amorous horn a long the clifl s above ;The hol l ow murmur of the ocean- t i de

The hum of bees,the l innet’s l ay of l ove,

And the ful l cho i r that wakes the un i versa l grove.

The cottage curs at early p i lgrim bark ;Crowned with her pa i l the tr ipp ing m i lkmaid

s ings ;The wh i st l ing p loughman sta lks afiel d ; and

,

hark !D own the rough slope the ponderous wagon

r ings :

LIGHT:DAY:NIGHT . 43

Through rust l ing corn the hare aston i shed

Springs ;S l ow to l l s the vi l lage- c l ock the drowsy hour ;The partr i dge bursts away on whi rr ing wings ;D eep mourns the turtle in sequestered bower

,

And shr i l l l ark carol s clear from her aer ia l tower .

JAMES BEATT IE .

SUMME R RA IN .

T I—I ICK l ay the dust,uncomfortably wh ite

In glar ing m im i cry of Arab sand .

The woods and mounta ins slept in hazy l ight ;The meadows l ooked ath i rst and tawny tanned ;The l i ttle r i l l s h ad left thei r channel s bare .

Wi th scarce a poo l to w i tness what they were ;And the Shrunk r i ver gleamed ’mid oozy stones,That stared l ike any fami shed giant

’s bones .

S udden the h i l l s grew black , and hot as stoveThe a i r beneath ; i t was a to i l to be .

There was a growl ing as of angry Jove,Provoked bv Juno ’s pry ing jea l ousyA flash— a crash— the firmament was s pl i t ,

And down i t came in drops— the sma l lest tit

To drown a bee in fox -glove be l l concea led ;

Joy fi l led the brook , and com fort cheered the fie ld .

H ARTLEY C O LER IIIC E .

POEMS OF NATUR E .

THE OAS IS OF S ID I KHALE D .

How the earth burns ! E ach pebble under foot

I s as a l iv ing th ing with power to wound .

The wh i te sand qu i vers,and the footfa l l mute

O f the sl ow camel s str ikes but gives no sound,

As though they wa lked on flame,not sol i d ground

’T i s noon,and the beasts ’ shadows even have fle

Back to the i r feet,and there i s fire around

And fire beneath,and the sun overhead .

P i t i ful Heaven ! what i s th i s we V iew ?

Ta l l trees,a r iver

,pool s

,where swal l ows fl y ,

Th i ckets of O leander where doves coo,

S hades,deep as m idn i ght

,greenness for t i red eyes .

HaIk,how the l ight w inds in the palm tops sigh !

Oh, th i s i s rest ! oh , th i s is parad i se !

W I LFRED SCAWE N B LUNT.

A MID SUMME R ’S NOON IN THE

AUSTRAL IAN FOR E ST .

NOT a sound d i sturbs the a i r,There i s qu iet everywhere ;O ver p l a ins and over woods

“Ihat a m ighty st i l lness b roods !

A ll the b i rds and insects keepWhere the coo lest shadows sleep ;E ven the busv ants are found

R est ing in the i r pebbled mound ;E ven the l ocust clingeth now

S i lent to the barkv bough :

O ver h i l l s and over p la ins

LIGHT:DAY:NIGH T .

Quiet,vast and s lumbrous

,reigns .

O n ly there ’s a drowsy humming

From yon warm lagoon s l ow- coming’T i s the dragon -hornet— see !

A ll bedaubed resp lendently

Yel l ow on a tawny ground

E ach ri ch spot not square nor round,

R udely heart - shaped,as i t were

The bl urred and hasty impress there

O f a vermei l - crusted seal

D usted o’er wi th gol den meal .

O nly there ’s a dron ing where

Yon bright beet le Sh ines in a i r,

T racks i t in i ts gleam ing fl ight

Wi th a sl ant ing beam of l ight

R i s ing in the sunsh ine h igher,T i l l i ts shards flame out l i ke fire.

E very other th ing i s st i l l ,S ave the ever -wakeful r i l l ,Whose coo l murmur on ly throwsCooler comfort round repose ;O r some ripp le in the sea

,

O f leafy boughs, where, l az i ly ,T i red summer

,in her bower

Turn ing w i th the noont ide hour ,

Heaves a sl umbrous breath ere she

Once more s l umbers peacefullv.

Oh,

’t i s easeful here to lie

H i dden from noon ’s scorch ing eve .

In th i s grassy coo l reces s

Mus ing thus of qu ietness .

c IIAR Iacs IIARI'

UR .

45

46 POEMS OF NATURE .

NOONT ID E .

BENEATH a Sh i vering canopy rec l inedO f aspen- leaves that wave wi thout -

a wind,

I l ove to lie,when l u l l ing breezes st i r

The sp i ry cones that tremble on the flr ;

O r wander m i d the dark -green fiel ds of broom,

When peers in scattered tufts the y e l l ow bloom

O r trace the path w i th tangl ing furze o’errun

IVhen burst ing seed -bel l s crack le in the sun,

And p ittering grasshoppers,confus

’dlv

‘

shr i l l,

Pipe gi dd i ly a l ong the glow ing h i l l

Sweet grasshopper,who lov’

st at noon to lie

S erenely in the green - r ibbed cl over’s eye,

To sun thy fi lmy w ings and emera ld vest

Unseen thy form , and und i sturbed thy rest

O ft have I l i sten ing mused the su l try day,And wondered what thy ch i rp ing song might say

When naught was heard a l ong the b lossomed lea

To j o in thy musi c,save the l i st less bee.

JOH N LEYDEN .

A SUMME R NOON .

WH O has not dreamed a world of bl i ssO n a bright sunny noon l ike th i s

,

Couched by h i s nat i ve brook ’s green ma z e,

Wi th comrade of h i s bovish days,Wh i le a l l around them seemed to be

Just as in j oyous infancv ?IVho has not l oved , at such an hour

,


Wh i le,

fl i tt ing gay,the swal l ows p lay

Around the cast le wa ’.

Beneath the golden gloam in’ sky

The mavi s mends her l ay ;The redbreast pours h i s sweetest stra ins

To charm the l inger ing day ;Wh i le weary veldrins seem to wa i l

Thei r l i tt le nest l ings torn,

The merry wren,frae den to d en

,

Gaes j ink ing through the thorn .

The roses fau l d thei r s i lken leaves,The foxgl ove shuts i ts bel l ;

The h oneysuck le and the b i rkS pread fragrance through the del l .

Let others crowd the gi ddy court

Of m i rth and revel ry,

The s imple j oys that nature yiel dsAre dearer far to me.

RO B ERT TANNAH I LL.

FROM QUEEN MAB .

”

IE sol i tude hath ever led thy steps

To the wi l d ocean’s echo ing shore

And thou hast l ingered there

Unt i l the sun’s broad orb

Seemed rest ing on t he burn i shed wave

Thou must have marked the l ines

O f purp le gold that mot i on less

LIGH T:DAY:NIGH T .

Hung o’er the s ink ing sphere :

Thou must have marked the bi l l owy clouds,

E dged wi th into lerable rad iancv

T owering l i ke rocks of jet

Crowned w ith a d iamond wreath .

And yet there i s a moment ,“’hen the sun’s h ighest po int

P eeps l i ke a star o’er ocean’s western edge.

When those far c l ouds of feathery gold , .

S haded wi th deepest purple, gleam

L ike i s l ands on a dark -b lue sea ;

Then has thy fancy soared above the earth

And furled i ts wearied wing

“’ithin the Fai ry ’s fane .

Yet not the golden i sl ands

G leaming in you flood of l ight,Nor the feathery curta ins

S tretch ing o’er the sun ’s bright couch ,

Nor the burn i shed ocean’s waves

Paving that gorgeous dome

So fa i r,so wonderfu l a s igh t

AS Mah’s etherea l pa l ace could a ll'

ord .

Yet l i kest evening’s vaul t,that fa i ry Il a ll !

Heaven,l ow rest ing on the wave , i t spread

I ts floors of fl ash ing l ight ,I ts vast and azure dome

,

I ts fert i le gol den i s lands

Fl oat ing on a s i l ver sea ;

Wh i l st suns the i r m ingl ing beamings da rtedThrough c l ouds of c i rcumambient da rkness .

And pearly batt lements a round

Looked o’er the immens e o f heaven .

l ' lCltC Y nvs s IIE s IIE I.I.Ev.

V

49


FANCY IN NUBIBUS .

0,IT i s p leasant , wi th a heart at ease

Just after sunset,or by moon l i ght sk ies

To make the sh i ft ing c louds be what you p leaseO r let the eas i ly persuaded eves

Own each qua int l i keness i ssu ing from the moul t’

O f a friend ’s fancy ; or, with head bent l ow ,

And cheek asl ant,see r i vers flow of gol d

,

’Twixt cr imson banks ; and then a travel ler go

F rom mount to mount,through C l oudland

,gor

geous l and !

O r,l i sten ing to the t i de with c losed si ght

,

B e that b l ind Bard,who on the Ch ian strand,

By those deep sounds possessed with inward l ight

Behe l d the I l i ad and the Odyssey

R i se to the swel l ing of the vo i cefu l sea .

SAMUE L TAYLOR CO LER IDGE .

DAY IS DY ING .

FROM T H E SPAN I SH GYP SY .

DAY i s dying ! Float, 0 song

,

D own the westward r i ver,

R equ iem chant ing to the D ay ,D ay , the mighty G i ver .

Pierced by shafts of T ime he bleeds.Mel ted rub ies send ing

Through the r i ver and the sky,

E arth and heaven bleeding ;

LIGH T :DAY:NIGH T . 5 1

All the l ong -drawn earthy banks

Up to c l oud - l and l i ft ing :

S l ow between them dri fts the swan.

"T wixt two heavens dri ft ing.

Wings ha l f open,l i ke a flower

Inl y deeper flush ing,

Neck and breast as V i rgin’s pure,

V i rgin proudlv blush ing .

D ay i s dving ! Float , O swan,

D own the ruby r i ver ;Fol low

,song

,in requiem

To the mighty G i ver .

MAR IAN EVAN S LEWES CRO SS (George E liot) .

THE E ND OF THE DAY .

1 H EAR the bel l s at event idePea l soft ly one by one

,

Hear and far off they break and gl ide ;

Across the stream float fa int ly beaut i ful

The ant i phona l be l l s of Hul l ;The day i s done

,done, done,

The day i s done.

dew has gathered in the fl owers ,

Li ke tears from some unconsc i ous deep

The swa l l ows wh i r l around the towers ,

Th‘gl i gh t runs out beyond the long c loud bars ,

And leaves the s ingle sta rs ;’T i s t ime for sleep , s leep, sleep,

’T i s t ime for s leep .


The herm it thrush begins aga in,

T imorous eremite

That song of r i sen tears and pa in,

As i f the one he l oved was far away °

“A l as ! another day

And now Good Night,Good Night

,

’

Good Night .

DUNCAN CAM P B ELL SCOTT.

E VE NING .

FROM upl and S l opes I see the cows fi le by,

Low ing,great - chested

,down the

'

homewardtra i l

,

By dusk ing fiel ds and meadows sh in ing pale

Wi th moon - t ipped dandel i ons ; fl i cker ing h igh ,A peev i sh n ight -hawk in the western skyBeats up into the l ucent so l i tudes

,

O r drops wi th gri d ing wing ; the st i l ly woods

G row dark and deep,and gl oom myster i ously .

Coo l n i ght -winds creep and wh i sper in mine ear ;

The homely cri cket goss ips at my feet ;F rem far -off poo l s and wastes of reeds I hear

Wi th ebb and change the chant ing frogs break

sweet

In full P andean chorus ; one by one

S h ine'

out the stars, and the great night comes on

ARCH IBALD LAMPMAN .


A TWIL IGHT FANCY .

I S IT here and the earth i s wrapped in snow,

And the co l d a i r i s th i ck wi th fa l l ing n igh t :

I th ink of the st i l l,dewy summer eves

,

When cows came s l owly sauntering up the l ane

YVaiting to n i bble at the j u i cy grass ;When the green earth was ful l of changing l i fe

,

When the warm wind blew soft,

and slowly

passed,

Caress ing now and then some ways ide fl ower,S topp ing to st i r the tender maple- leaves ,And breath ing a l l i ts fragrance on the a ir !

I th ink of the broad meadows,da i sy -wh ite,

Wi th the l ong Shade of some stray apple- tree

Fa l l ing across them,—and the rust l ings fa int

When even ing breezes shook a l ong the grass .

I th ink of a l l the thousand summer sounds ,The cr i cket’s ch i rp

,repeated far and near ;

The s leepy note of rob ins in the i r most ;T he wh ippoorwi l l

,whose sudden cry rang out ,

Pla int i ve, yet strong, upon the startled a i r .

And so i t was the summer twi l igh t fe l l ,

And deepened to the darkness of the night :

And now I l i ft my heart out of my d ream

And see instead the pa le, co ld , ( ly ing l ights .

The dul l gray sk ies, the barren,snow-c lad tie lds

,

That come to us when winter even ings come.

DORA READ GO O DALE .


TO THE E VE NING STAR .

S TAR that bringest home the bee,

And sett’st the weary laborer free !

If any star shed peace,’t i s thou

That send ’st i t from above

,

Appearing when heaven’s breath and brow

Are sweet as hers we l ove.

Come to the l uxuriant sk ies ,Wh i l s t the landscape’s odors r ise

,

IVhilst far -off l ow ing herds are heard

And songs when to i l i s done.

From cottages where smoke unst i rred

Curl s y el l ow in the sun .

S tar of l ove’s soft interv iews

Parted lovers on thee muse ;

Thei r remembrancer in heaven

O f thr i l l ing vows thou art,

Too del i c i ous to be r i ven

By absence from the heart .

TH OMAS CAMP BELL.

THE E VENING WIND .

S P IR IT that breathest th rough mv l att i ce : tho

That cool’st the tw i l i ght of the su l try day !

Gratefu l ly flows thv freshness round my brow ;Thou hast been out upon the deep at play,

R i d ing a l l day the wi ld blue waves t i l l now.


The fa int o ld man sha l l lean h i s s i l ver headTo feel thee ; thou shal t k i ss the ch i ld asleep,

And dry the moi stened curl s that overspread

H is temples,wh i le h i s breath ing grows more

deep :

And they who stand about the s i ck man’s bed

S ha l l j oy to l i sten to thy d i stant sweep

And soft ly part h i s curta ins to a l l ow

Thy v i s i t, grateful to h i s burn ing brow .

Go,— but the c i rcle of eterna l change

,

Wh i ch i s the l i fe of nature,sha l l restore,

Wi th sounds and scents from al l thy mighty

range,

Thee to thy b i rthp lace of the deep once more.

Sweet odors in the sea a i r,sweet and strange

,

S hal l tel l the homes i ck mariner of the shore ;And

,l i stening to thy murmur

,he sha l l deem

H e hears the rust l ing leaf and runn ing stream .

W I LL IAM CULLEN BRYANT .

E VE NING IN PARAD ISE .

F R OM “P AR AD I S E L O ST

,B O OK Iv.

Now came st i l l even ing on,and tw i l i ght gray

H ad in her sober l i very a l l th ings c lad ;S i lence accompan ied ; for beast and b ird

,

T hey to the i r grassy couch,these to thei r nests,

Were sl unk,a l l but the wakefu l n ight ingale ;

S he a l l n i ght l ong her amorous descant sung .

S i lence was pleased :now glowed the firmament

Wi th l i v ing sapph i res ; Hesperus,that led

LIGH T:DAY:NIGHT . 57

The starry host, rode brightest, t i l l the moonR i s ing in c l ouded maj esty

,at length

Apparent queen , unve i led her peerless l ight,

And o’er the dark her s i l ver mantle th rew .

M IL TON.

E VE NING .

FROM DON JUAN .

”

AVE MAR IA ! o’er the earth and sea

,

That heaven l iest hour of heaven i s worth iest thee !

Ave Maria ! blessed be the hour,

The t ime,the c l ime

,the Spot

, where I so oft

Have fel t that moment in i ts ful lest power

S ink o’er the earth so beaut i fu l and soft .

Wh i le swung the deep bel l in the d i stant towerO r the fa int dy ing day -hymn sto le a loft,

And not a brea th crept th rough the rosy a ir,

And yet the forest leaves seemed sti rred wi th

prayer .

Ave Mar i a ! ’t i s the hour of prayer !

Ave Mar i a ! ’t is the hour of l ove !

Ave Mari a ! may our sp i r i ts da re

Look up to th ine and to thy S on’

s above !

Ave Maria ! O that face so fa i r !

Those downcas t eyes beneath the A lm igh ty

dove,

What though ’t i s but a p i ctu red image ?

str ike,

That pa inting i s no i do l , -

’

t is too l i ke.


Sweet hour of tw i l i ght ! in the sol i tudeO f the p ine forest, and the s i lent shore

Wh i ch bounds R avenna ’s immemor ia l wood ,

R ooted where once the Adr i an wave flowed o’er

To where the l ast Caesarean fortress stood,

E vergreen forest ; wh i ch Boccacc i o’s l ore

And D ryden’s l ay made haunted ground to me,

How have I l oved the tw i l ight hour and thee !

The shr i l l c i ca las,people of the p ine,

Mak ing thei r summer l i ves one ceaseless song,

Were the sole echoes,save my steed ’s and mine,

And vesper be l l s that rose the boughs a long ;The spectre huntsman of O nesti’s l ine

,

H is he l l -dogs,and the i r chase

,and the fair

throng

Wh i ch learned from th i s example not to fly

F rom a true l over,— shadowed mv mind ’s eye.

0 Hesperus ! thou bringest a l l good th ings,

H ome to the weary,to the hungry cheer,

To the young b i rd the parent ’s brood ing wing!

The wel come sta l l to the o’erlabored steer ;

VVhate’

er of peace about our hearthstone c l ings,

Whate’er our househol d gods protect of dearAre gathered round us by thy look of rest ;T hou br ing’st the ch i ld

,too

,to the mother’s

breast .

S oft hour ! wh i ch wakes the wish and mel ts the

heart

O f those who sa i l the seas,on the first day

When they from the i r sweet fr iends are torn

apart ;

LIGHT DAY:NIGHT . 59

O r fi l l s w i th l ove the p i lgrim on h i s way,

As the far bel l of vesper makes h im start,

Seeming to weep the dy ing day ’s decay °

I s th i s a fancy wh i ch our reason scorns ?

Ah ! surelv noth ing dies but someth ing mourns .

LORD B YRON .

MOONL IGHT ON THE PRAIR IE .

FROM EVANGEL I NE .

BEAUT IFUL was the n ight . Beh ind the black wal l

of the forest

T i pp ing i ts summi t w ith S i l ver,arose the moon.

O n the r i ver

Fel l here and there th rough the branches at trema

l ous gleam of the moonl i ght ,L ike the sweet thoughts of l ove on a darkened

and devi ous sp i ri t .

Nearer and round about her,the man i fo ld fl owers

of the garden

P oured out thei r soul s in odors , tha t were the i r

prayers and confess i ons

Unto the n igh t,a s i t went i ts way , l ike a s i lent

Carthus i an .

Ful ler of fragrance than they , and as heavv with

shadows and n ight -dews ,IIung the heart of the ma iden . T he ca lm and

the magi ca l moon l igh t

Seemed to inundate her soul wi th ilnle linable

l ongings,

AS,th rough the garden gate ,

and benea th the

shade of the oak -trees,


P assed she a l ong the path to the edge of themeasureless pra i r ie.

S i lent i t l ay, wi th a heavy haze upon i t,and

firefl ies

G leam ing and float ing away in'

mingled and in

fin i te numbers .

Over her head the stars,the thoughts of God in

the heavens,

Shone on the eves of man. who had ceased to

marve l and worsh ip,

S ave when a blaz ing comet was seen on the wal lsof that temple,

As i f a hand had appeared and wri tten upon

them,U-

pharsin .

And the sou l of the ma iden,between the stars

and the fi refl ies,

Wandered al one,

and she cried “0 Gabrie l !

0 my bel oved !

Art thou so near unto me,and yet I cannot

behol d thee ?

Art thou so near unto me,and yet thy vo i ce does

not reach me ?

Ah ! how often thy feet have trod th i s path to

the pra ir ie !'

Ah ! how often th ine eyes have l ooked on the

woodlands around me !

Ah ! how often beneath th i s oak,return ing from

labor,

Thou hast l a in down to rest, and to dream of me

in thy sl umbers .

When shal l these eyes behold,these arms be

fol ded about thee ?

LIGH T:DAY:NIGH T . 6 1

Loud and sudden and near the note of a wh ip

poorw i l l sounded

L ike a flute in the woods ; and anon,through the

neighboring th i ckets,

Farther and farther away i t floated and droppedinto s i lence.

P at ience ! ” Wh i spered the oaks from oracul ar

caverns of darkness :

And,from the moonl i t meadow

,a s igh responded,

To-morrow

H ENRY WADSWORTH LoNGFE LLow.

TO DE L IA .

CARE -CH ARM ER S leep,son of the sable Night ,

Brother to Death,in S i lent darkness born :

R el ieve my l angui sh and restore the l ight ;

Wi th dark forgett ing of my ca re, return,

And let the day be t ime enough to mourn

The sh ipwreck of my i l l -adventured vouth :

Let wak ing eyes suffi ce to wa i l the i r scorn

Wi thout the torment of the n ight ’s untruth .

Cease dreams,the images of dav des i res ,

To model forth the pa ss i on of the morrow ;

Never let r is ing sun approve vou l iars ,

To add more gr ief to aggravate my sorrow.

S t i l l let me s leep,embrac ing c l ouds in va in,

'

And never wake to feel the day ’

s d i sda in.

SAMUEL DAN I EL.


THE CAMP AT NIGHT .

F ROM “T H E IL IAD

,B O OK V I I I .

TH E winds transferred into the fr iendly sk

T hei r supper ’s savor ; to the wh ich they sat

l ightfu l ly,

And Spent a l l n ight in open fiel d ; fires rounabout them sh ined .

A s when about the S i l ver moon,when a i r i s fre

from wind,

And stars sh ine c lear,to whose sweet beams

h igh prospects,and the brows

O f a l l steep h i l l s and p innac les,thrust up them

sel ves for shows,

And even the l owly va l leys j oy to gl i tter in the i r

s i ght,

When the unmeasured firmament bursts to d i s

c l ose her l ight,

And a l l the S igns in heaven are seen,

- that glad

the shepherd ’s heart ;So many fires d i sc l ose the i r beams, made by the

T roj an part,

Before the face of I l i on,and her bright turrets

Showed .

A thousand courts of guard kept fires, and every

guard a l lowed

F i fty stout men,by whom thei r horse eat oats

and hard wh ite corn ,

And a l l‘

d id w ishfu l ly expect the s i l ver - thronedmorn .

F rom the G reek of HOME R .

Transla tion of G E O RG E C HAPMAN

4 POEMS OF NATURE .

Death wi l l come when thou art dead,

S oon,too soon

,

S leep w i l l come when thou art fled ;O f nei ther woul d I ask the boon

I ask of thee,bel oved Night

,

Swi ft be th ine approach ing fl i ght,

Come soon,soon '

P ERCY B YS SH E SH E LLEY.

NIGHT .

MYSTER IOU S Night ! when our first parent knewThee

,from report d i v ine

,I heard thy name

,

D id he not tremble for th i s l ovely frame,Th i s gl or i ous canopy of l ight and blue ?

Yet ’neath a i curtain of transl ucent dew

,

Bathed in the rays of the great sett ing flame,

Hesperus,with the host of heaven

,came

,

And 1 0 ! creat ion widened in man’s V iew .

W’ho ' could have thought such darkness lay con

cea led

Wi th in thv beams , 0 Sun ! or who could find,Wh i l st fly and leaf and insect stood revea led

,

That to such count less orbs thou mad’st us bl ind !

Why do we then shun death wi th anxious stri fe !If l i ght can thus decei ve

,wherefore not l i fe ?

JO SEPH B LANCO WH ITE .


NIGHT .

FROM CH I LDE H AROLD,

” CANTO I I .

’T I s n i ght,when Med itat i on bids us feel

We once have l oved,though love i s at an end

The heart,l one mourner of i ts baffled zeal

,

T hough fr iend less now,wi l l dream it had a

fr iend .

Who wi th the we ight of years would wi sh to

bend,

When Youth i tsel f surv ives young Love and

j oy ?

A l as ! when mingl ing soul s forget to blend .

D eath hath but l i tt le left h im to destroy !

Ah ! happy years ! once more who would not be a

boy ?

Thus bend ing o’er the vessel

’

s laving s ide ,

To gaze on D i an’s wave - reflected sphere

The soul forgets her schemes of Hope and P ride ,

And fl ies uncons c ious o’er each backwa rd vea r.

None are so deso late but someth ing dear .

D earer than sel f, posses ses or possessed

A thought,and cla ims the homage o f a te al

A fl ash ing pang ! of wh i ch the wea rv breas t

W'

Ould st i l l,albe i t in va in . the heavv hea rt d i ves t .

To s i t on rocks , to muse o’

er fl ood and fe l l ,

To sl owly trace the fores t’

s shadv scene ,

Where th ings that own not man’

s dominion

dwel l,

V—5


And morta l foot hath ne’er or rarely been :

'

To c l imb the track less mounta in a l l unseenWi th the wi l d flock that never needs a fold ;A l one o

’er steeps and foaming fal l s to lean

,

Th i s i s not so l i tude ;’t i s but to ho ld

Converse with Nature’s charms,and V iew her

stores unro l led .

But midst the crowd,the hum

,the shock of

men

To hear,to see

,to feel , and to possess ,

And roam a long,the worl d ’s t i red den i zen

,

Wi th none who bless us,none whom we can

bless ;Min i ons of Splendor shr ink ing from d i stress !

None that,with k indred consc i ousness endued

,

I f we were not,wou ld seem to sm i le the less

O f a l l that flattered,fo l lowed

,sought

,and

sued ;T h i s i s to be a lone ; th i s, th i s i s so l i tude !

LORD BYRON .

NIGHT .

FROM QUEEN MAB .

How beauti fu l th i s n ight ! the ba lm iest s igh

Wh i ch verna l zephyrs breathe in even ing’s ear

Were d i scord to the speak ing qu ietude

That wraps th i s moveless scene. Heaven’s ebon

vaul t,

S tudded w i th stars unutterablv bright,T hrough wh i ch the moon’s unc l ouded grandeur

ro l l s


S eems l ike a canopy whi ch love has SpreadTo curta in her s leep ing world . Yon gent le h i l l s

,

R obed in a garment of untrodden SD OW '

Yon darksome rocks, whence i c i c les depend

So sta in less that thei r wh i te and gl i ttering sp i res

T inge not the moon’s pure beam ; yon cast le steep ,

Whose banner hangeth o’er the t ime-worn tower

S o i d ly that rapt fancv deelneth i t

A metaphor of peace —al l form a scene

Where musing sol i tude might love to l i ftHer sou l above th i s Sphere of earth l iness ;IVhere S i lence undi sturbed might watch a lone,S o co ld

,so bright

,so st i l l .

The orb of dayIn southern c l imes o

’er ocean’s waveless fie l d

S inks sweetly sm i l ing :not the fa intes t b reath

S tea l s o’er the unruflled deep ; the c l ouds of eve

R eflect unmoved the l inger ing beam of day ;

And vesper’s image on the western ma in

IS beaut i fu l ly st i l l . To-morrow comes :

C l oud upon c l oud,in dark and deepen ing mass .

R ol l s o’er the blackened waters ; the deep roar

O f d i stant thunder mutters awful l y ;

T empes t unfo l d s its p ini on o’

er the gloom

That Shrouds the bo i l ing surge ; the pi ti les s licud .

Wi th a l l h i s winds and l ightnings , tra cks his

prey ;The torn deep yawns , - the vesse l finds a grave.

Beneath l ts jagged gul f .

P lclu'

v nvs s uE S H E L L E Y .


HYMN TO THE NIGHT .

‘

Amraoiry, TpZMLIm-

og.

I H EARD the tra i l ing garments of the Night

Sweep through her marble ha l l s !

I saw her sab le Sk i rts a l l fr inged w ith l ight

From the celest i a l wa l l s !

I fe l t her presence,by i ts spe l l of might,

S toop o’er me from above

The ca lm , majest i c presence of the Night,As of the one I l ove.

I heard the sounds of sorrow and del ight

The man i fo l d,soft ch imes

,

That fi l led the haunted chambers of the Night,

L ike some o ld poet ’s rhymes .

From the coo l c i sterns of the midn ight a i r

My sp ir i t drank repose ;The founta in of perpetua l peace flows there

,

From those deep c i sterns flows .

0 holy Night ! from thee I learn to bear

What man has borne before !

T hou layest thv finger on the l i ps of Care,

And thev compla in no more.

Peace ! Peace ! O restes - l ike I breathe th i s prayer !D escend wi th broad -winged fl i ght

,

The we l come,the thr i ce-prayed for

,the most fa i r,

The best -bel oved Night !

H ENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

LIGH T:DAY:NIGH T. 69

IN THE WIDE AWE AND WISDOM OF

THE NIGHT .

In the wide awe and wisdom of the n ight

I saw the round worl d ro l l ing on i ts way,

Beyond S ign ifi cance of depth or hei ghtBeyond the interchange of dark and day .

I marked the march to wh i ch i s set no pause,

And that stupendous orb i t,round whose r im

The great sphere sweeps,obed ient unto laws

That utter the eterna l thought of H im .

I compassed t ime,outstr i pped the starrv speed .

And in my sti l l S oul apprehended space,T i l l weigh ing l aws wh i ch these but bl indly heed

At l ast I came before H im face to face,And knew the Un i verse of no such span

As the ,august infinitude of man .

CHARLES E . D. RO BERTS .

T HE S E AS O NS .

A HYMN .

FROM TH E SEASON S,

” CONCLU S ION .

TH E SE,as they change

,A lm ighty Father

,these

Are but the var ied God . The rol l ing year

I s ful l of thee. Forth in the pleas ing Spr ing

Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and l ove .

Wi de flush the fiel ds ; the soften ing a i r i s balm ;E cho the mounta ins round ; the forest sm i les ;And every sense and every heart i s j oy .

Then comes thy gl ory in the S ummer months,

W’ i th l ight and heat refu lgent . Then thy sun

Shoots fu l l perfect ion through the swel l ing year ;And oft thy vo i ce in dreadful thunder speaks,And oft at dawn

,deep noon

,or fa l l ing eve

,

By brooks and groves in hol l ow -whi spering ga les

Thy bountV sh ines in Autumn unconfined,And spreads a common feast for a l l that l i ves .

In Winter awful thou ! with cl ouds and stormsAround thee thrown

,tempest o’

er tempest rol led .

Majest i c darkness ! on the wh i rlw ind ’s w ing

R i d ing subl ime,t-hou bidd ’

st the worl d adore,

And humblest nature with thy northern blast .

70

I2 POEMS OF NATUR E .

Ye softer floods,that lead the humid maze

A l ong the va le ; and thou , majest i c ma in,

A secret worl d of wonders in thysel f,

S ound h i s stupendous pra i se,— whose greater vo ice

O r b ids you roar,or b ids your roar ings fa l l .

S oft ro l l your incense,herbs

,and fru i ts

,and

flowers,

In mingled cl ouds to h im ,whose Sun exa l ts

,

Whose breath perfumes you,and whose pencil

pa ints .

Ye forests bend, ye harvests wave, to h im ;

Breathe y our st i l l song into the reaper’s heart,

As home he goes beneath the j oyous Moon.

Ye that keep watch in Heaven,as E arth asleep

Unconsc i ous l ies,effuse y our m i l dest beams

Ye constel l at i ons,wh i le your angel s strike

,

Amid the spangled sky, the s i l ver l y re.

Great source of day ! best image here bel ow

O f thy Creator,ever pour ing w ide

,

From worl d to worl d, the V i ta l ocean round,

On Nature wri te with every beam h i s pra i se.

The thunder ro l l s :be hushed the prostrate world ;Wh i le c l oud to cl oud returns the so lemn hymn.

Bleat out afresh, ye h i l l s ; ye mossy rocks,

R eta in the sound ; the broad respons ive l ow,

Ye va l leys,ra i se ; for the great Shepherd reigns,

And h i s unsuffering k ingdom yet wi l l come.

Ye woodlands a l l,awake :a bound less song

Burst from the groves ! and when the rest less day,E xp i r ing

,l ays the warbl ing worl d asleep

,

Sweetest of b i rds ! sweet Ph i l omel a,charm

The l i sten ing shades, and teach the n ight his

pra i se.

THE S EAS ONS .

Ye ch ief,for whom the whole creat ion smi les

,

At once the head , the heart, and tongue of a l l ,Crown the great hymn ! in swarm ing c i t ies vast

,

A ssembled men to the deep organ j o inThe l ong - resound ing vo i ce

,Oft break ing c lear

,

At so lemn pauses,through the swel l ing bass ;

And,as each m ingl ing flame increases each

,

In one un i ted ardor ri se to Heaven.

O r i f you rather choose the rural shade

And find a fane in every sacred grove,

There let the shepherd ’s flute,the Vi rgin’

s lay ,

The prompt ing seraph,and the poet

’

s l y re,

S t i l l S ing the God of S easons as they ro l l .

For me,when I forget the darl ing theme

,

Whether the b lossom blows,the S ummer ray

R ussets the pl a in,insp i r ing Autumn gleams,

O r \V inter ri ses in the blacken ing east ,B e my tongue mute

,my fancy pa int no more.

And,dead to j oy

,forget my heart to bea t !

S houl d fate command me to the farthes t verge

O f the green earth,to d i stant barbarous c l imes

,

R i vers unknown to song— where fi rs t the sun

G i lds Ind ian mounta ins , or h i s sett ing beam

Flames on the At lant i c i s les,—’t is naught to me °

S ince God i s ever present, ever fel t,In the vo i d waste as in the c i ty ful l ;'

And where he Vi ta l brea thes there mus t be jo y .

When even at l ast the solemn hour sha l l come

And wing my myst i c fl igh t to future'

worlds ,

I cheerfu l wi l l obey ; there , with new powers .

iVVill r i s ing wonders s ing :I cannot go

Where Un i versa l Love not smi les around ,

S usta ining a l l you orbs, and a ll the i r suns ;


From seeming ev i l st i l l educing good,

And better thence aga in, and better st i l l,In infin i te progressi on . But I l ose

Myse l f in h im ,in L ight ineffab le !

Come,then

,express i ve S i lence

,muse h i s pra i se.

JAM ES TH OM SON .

MAR CH .

S LAYER of winter art thou here aga in ?

0 wel come,thou that br ing’st the summer n igh .

The b i tter wind makes not thy v i ctory va in,

Nor w i l l we mock thee for thy fa int b lue sky .

Wel come,0 March ! whose k indly day s and dry

Make Apri l ready for the throstle ’

s song,

Thou first redresser of the winter’s wrong !

Yea, wel come March ! and though I d ie ere June,

Yet for the hOpe of l i fe I g i ve thee pra i se,S tri ving to swel l the burden of the tune

That even now I hear thy brown b i rds ra i se,

Unmindfu l of the past or com ing days ;“Ibo S ing

,0 j oy ! a new year i s begun !

What happ iness to l ook upon the sun !”

0,what begetteth a l l th i s storm of bl i ss

,

But Death h imsel f,who

,cry ing solemn ly

,

E ven from the heart of sweet Forgetfulness,

Bids us,

“ R ej o i ce ! lest p leasureless ye d ie.

Wi th in a l i ttle t ime must ye go by .

S tretch forth your Open hands,and

,wh i le ye l i ve,

Take a l l the g ifts that D eath and L i fe may g ive.

”

WI LL IAM M ORR I S .


The days d iv i d ing lover and l over,

The l igh t that l oses,the n ight that w ins ;

And t ime remembered i ts grief forgotten,

And frosts are s la in and flowers begotten,

And in green underwood and cover

Blossom by blossom the spring begins .

The fu l l streams feed on flower of rushes,

R i pe grasses trammel a travel l ing foot,

The fa int fresh flame of the young year flushes

From leaf to flower and flower to fru i t ;And fru i t and leaf are as gol d and fire

,

And the oat i s heard above the lyre,

And the hoofed heel of a satyr crushes

The chestnut -husk at the chestnut - root .

And P an by noon and Bacchus by n ight,

Fleeter of foot than the fleet - foot k id,

Fol l ows w ith danc ing and fi l l s wi th del ightThe Maenad and the B assar id ;

And soft as l ips that l augh and h i de

The l augh ing leaves of the trees d i v i de

And screen from seeing and leave in S ight

The god pursu ing, the maiden h id .

The i vy fa l l s w ith the Bacchana l ’s ha i r

Over her eyebrows Shading her ey es :

The wi ld V ine S l i pp ing down leaves bare

Her bright breast shorten ing into s ighs ;The wi ld v ine s l i ps w ith the weigh t of i ts leaves,But the berried i vy catches and c leaves

To the l imbs that gl i tter,the feet that scare

The wol f that fo l l ows,the fawn that fl ies .

ALGERNON CH ARLES SWI NBURNE.

MAR CH .

TH E cock i s crow ing,The stream i s floWing,The smal l b i rds tw itter,

The l ake doth gl itter ,The green fiel d S leeps in the sun ;

The o l dest and youngest

Are at work with the strongest ;

The catt le are graz ing,Thei r heads never ra i s ing

:

There are forty feeding l ike one !

L ike an army defeated

The snow hath retreated

And now doth fare i l l

On the top of the bare h i l l:

The ploughboy i s whoop ing—anon—anon

There’s j oy on the mounta ins

:

There’s l i fe in the founta ins ;

Smal l c l ouds are sa i l ing,

k ing ;Then b l ooms each th ing , then maids dance in I

r ing,


The pa lm and may make country -houses gay ,Lambs fr i sk and pl ay

,the shepherds p ipe al l day

And we hear aye b i rds tune th i s merry lay,Cuckoo

,j ug j ug

, pu w ,e to w i tta woo !

The fiel ds breathe sweet,the da i s ies k i ss our feet

,

Young l overs meet,o l d w ives a sunn ing s i t

,

In eye street these tunes our ears do greet,

Cuckoo,j ugjug, puwe, to witta woo !

S pring ! the sweet Spring !

TH OMAS NASH .

R E TURN OF SPR ING .

GOD sh iel d ye, hera lds of the Spr ing !

Ye fa i thfu l swa l l ows,

fleet of w ing,

Houps , cuckoos, n i ght inga les,Turtles

,and every w i l der bi rd

,

That make your hundred chirp ings heardThrough the green woods and da les .

God Sh iel d ye, E aster da i s ies a l l ,Fai r roses

,buds

,and blossoms smal l

And he whom erst the gore

O f Aj ax and Narc iss d id pr int,Ye wi ld thyme

,an i se

,ba lm

,and mint

,

I wel come ye once more !

God sh iel d ye, bright embro idered tra in

Of butterfl ies,that on the pl a in

O f each sweet herb let s ip ;And ye, new swarms of bees

,that go

Where the p ink flowers and yel l ow grow

To k i ss them with your l ip !


Yet hark,how through the peopled air

The busy murmur glows !

The insect youth are on the wing,

E ager to taste the honeyed spring

And fl oat am id the l i qui d noon :

S ome l i ghtly o’er the current sk im ,

S ome Show thei r gay ly gi l ded tr im

Qui ck -gl anc ing’

to the sun .

To Contemplat i on’s sober eye

S uch i s the race of man ;

And they that creep,and they that fly ,

Sha l l end where they began .

A l ike the busy and the gay

But flutter through l i fe’s l i tt le day,

In Fortune’s vary ing col ors drest °

Brushed by the hand of rough m ischance

O r ch i l led by age, the i r a i ry dance

They leave,in dust to rest .

Meth inks I hear in accents l owThe Sport i ve k ind reply :

P oor mora l i st ! and what art thou ?

A so l i tary fly !

Thy j oys no gl i tter ing female meets,

No h ive hast thou of hoarded sweets,

No painted p lumage to d i sp l ay ;O n hasty wings thy youth i s flown ;Thy sun i s set, thy spring i s gone,We frol i c wh i le ’

t i s May .

TH OMA S GRAY.

TH E S EAS ONS . 81

S UMME R LONGINGS .

AH ! my heart i s weary wai t ing,

Wa i t ing for the May

Wa i t ing for the pleasant ramblesWhere the fragrant hawthorn -bra inbles

,

W'

i th the woodb ine a l ternat ing,

S cent the dewy way .

Ah ! my heart i s weary wa i t ing,

Wa i t ing for the May .

Ah ! my heart i s s i ck w i th longing,Longing for the May ,

Longing to escape from study

To the young fa ce fa i r and ruddy,

And the thousand charms bel ongingTo the summer ’s day .

Ah ! my heart i s S i ck wi th l onging,Longing for the May .

Ah ! my heart i s sore wi th s igh ing,

S igh ing for the May ,

S i gh ing for their sure return ing ,

When the summer beams are burning ,

H opes and flowers tha t, dead o r dving,

A ll the winter lay .

Ah ! my heart is sore wi th S igh ing,

S igh ing for the May .

Ah ! my heart is pa ined w ith throbbing,

Throbb ing for the May ,

V 6


Throbbing for the seas i de b i l l ows,

O r the water -wooing wi l l ows ;Where, in l augh ing and in sobbing

,

Gl ide the streams away .

Ah ! my heart,my heart i s throbb ing,

Throbb ing for the May .

W'

a it ing sad,dejected

,weary

,

Wa i t ing for the May :

Spr ing goes by wi th wasted warn ings,

Moonl i t even ings,sunbr ight morn ings

,

S ummer comes, yet dark and dreary

L i fe st i l l ebbs away ;Man i s ever weary

,weary

,

Wa i t ing for the May !

DEN I S FLORENCE MAC CARTH Y.

SWE E TLY BREATH ING VE RNAL AIR .

SWEETLY breath ing,verna l a i r

,

That w ith k ind warmth doth repa i r

“f inter’s ru ins ; from whose breast

A ll the gums and sp i ce of the E ast

Borrow the i r perfumes ; whose eye

G i lds the morn,and clears the sky .

YVhose d i shevel led tresses shed

Pearl s upon the vi olet bed ;O n whose brow,

wi th calm smi les drest

The hal cy on s i ts and bui lds her nest ;Beauty

,youth

,and endless spring

Dwe l l upon thy rosy W ing !


That ’s the wi se thrush :he s ings each song twi c

over

Lest you Shou l d th ink he never cou ld recapture

The first fine careless rapture !

And,though the fiel ds l ook rough w i th hoar y dew

A ll wi l l be gay when noont ide wakes anew

The bu ttercups,the l i tt le ch i l dren ’s dower

,

Far brighter than th i s gaudy mel on -flower !

ROB ERT B ROWN ING.

MAY MORNING .

WARM wi ld,ra iny wind

,bl ow ing fitfully ,

S t i rr ing dreamy breakers on the s lumberous May

sea

What sha l l fa i l to answer thee ? What th ing sha l lw i thstand

The spe l l of th ine enchantment,

flow ing over sea

and land ?

All a l ong the swamp -edge in the ra in I go ;All about my head thou the l oosened locks dost

b l ow ;L ike the German goose-gi rl in the fa i ry ta le

,

I watch across the sh in ing poo l my flock of ducksthat sa i l .

R ed ly gleam the rose-haws,dripp ing wi th the wet,

Fru i t of sober autumn, glowing cr imson yet ;S lender swords of i r i s leaves cut the water c lear,And l ight green creeps the tender grass, th i ck

spreading far and near .

THE S EAS ONS . 85

E very last year’s sta lk i s set with brown or

gol den studs ;All the boughs of bayberry are

‘ th i ck with scentedbuds ;

Isl anded in turfy vel vet,where the ferns uncurl

,

Lo ! the l arge Wh i te duck ’s egg gl immers l i ke a

pearl !

S oftly sing the bi l l ows,rush ing

,whi sper ing low ;

Fresh ly,oh

,de l i c i ously

,the warm

,wi ld wind doth

b l ow !

P l a int ive b leat of new-washed lambs comes fa int

from far away ;And c learly cry the l i tt le b i rds, a lert and bl ithe

and gay .

0 happy,happy morn ing ! 0 dear, fami l iar

p l ace !

0 warm,sweet tears of Heaven

,fas t fal l ing on

my face !

0 wel l - remembered,ra iny wind

,bl ow a ll m y care

away,

That I may be a ch i l d aga in th is bl issfu l morn

of May .

CEL IA '

l‘

l l AX'

l‘

E lt.

S ONG .

ON MAY M ORN ING .

Now the brigh t morn ing star,day

’

s harb inger.

Comes danc ing from the east,and lead s wi th her

The fl owery May , who from her green la p throws

The yel l ow cows l i p and the pale primrose .


H ai l , bounteous May ! that doth insp i reMi rth and youth and warm des i re ;Woods and groves are of thy dressing

,

H i l l and da le doth boast thy bless ing .

T hus we sa lute thee with our early song,

And we l come thee,and wish thee l ong .

M I LTON.

SPR ING IN CAROLINA .

S P R I NG,with that nameless pathos in the air

Wh i ch dwel l s w i th al l th ings fa i r,

S pring,with her gol den suns and s i l ver ra in

I s w ith us once aga in .

O ut in the l onely woods the j asm ine burns

I ts fragrant l amps,and turns

Into a roya l court w i th green festoons

The banks of dark lagoons .

In the deep heart of every forest tree

The bl ood i s a l l ag lee,

And there ’s a l ook about the leafless bowers

As i f they dreamed of flowers .

Yet st i l l on every s ide we trace the handO f W’ inter in the l and

S ave where the maple reddens on the l awn,

Flushed by the season’s dawn ;

O r where,l ike those strange semblances we find

That age to ch i l dhood b ind,The elm puts on

,as i f in Nature’s scorn,

The brown of autumn corn.

88 P OEMS OF NATURE .

SPR ING.

AGAIN the V i o let of our early day s

D r inks beauteous azure from the golden sun,

And k ind les into fragrance at h i s b l aze ;The streams

,rej o i ced that W inter’s work is done,

T a lk of to -morrow ’s cowsl i ps,as they run .

Wi l d app le,thou art b l ush ing into b loom !

Thy leaves are com ing, snowy -b l ossomed thorn !

Wake,buried l i ly ! sp i r i t

,qu i t thy tomb !

And thou Shade - l ov ing hyac inth,be born !

Then,haste

,sweet rose ! sweet woodb ine

,hymn

the morn,Whose dewdrops sha l l i l l ume with pearly l ightE ach grassy bl ade that th i ck embatt led stands

From sea to sea ,wh i le da i s ies infin i te

Up l i ft in pra i se thei r gl owing hands,O

’er every h i l l that under heaven expands .

EB ENE Z ER ELL IOTT.

D IE D OWN o D ISMAL DAY.

D IE down,0 di smal day , and let me l i ve ;

And come,b lue deeps

,magn ificent ly strewn

With’

colored c louds,—l arge

,l i ght

,and fugit i ve,

B y upper w inds through pompous mot ions b lown.

Now i t i s death in l i fe,— a vapor dense

C reeps round my window,t i l l I cannot see

The far snow - Sh in ing mounta ins , and the glens

S hagg ing the mounta in -tops . O God ! make free

THE S E AS ONS . 89

Th i s barren shack led earth,so deadly col d

,

Breathe gent l y forth thy spring,t i l l winter fl ies

In rude amazement,fear fu l and yet bold ,

Wh i le she perf orms her customed char i t ies

I weigh the l oaded hours t i l l l i fe i s bare.

O God , for one c lear day,a snowdrop

,and sweet

a i r !

DAV ID GRAY .

'

MO RNING IN MAYI’

FROM T H E CANTERBURY P I LGR IM S :T H E KN IGIIT ES

TALE .

”

T H E busy larke,messager of dave,

Salueth in h i re song the morwe grave ;And fyry Phebus ryseth up so br ighte ,

That al the or ient laugheth of the l ighte .

And with h i s stremes (lrveth in the greves i

The S i l ver dropes,hongyng on the leeves .

And Arc i te,that i s in the court rya l

Wi th T heseus,h i s squyer pr inc ipa l ,

IS ri sen,and loketh on the merve da y .

And for to doon h i s observaunce to Mav,

R emembrvi i g on the poynt of his des i r ,

He on h i s courser,s tertyng as the tir

, I

IS ri den,into the feeldes h im to p le y e . §

Out of the court , were i t a m y le o r tweve .

And to the grove, of wh i ch that l y ow to l de.

By aventure his wey he gan to ho lde .

To maken h im a garland o f the greve s ,

Text of the C la rendon S er ies .

1 Groves. 1 F ire . 5 P lay .


Were i t of woodebynde or hawethorn leves,And lowde he song ayens the sonne scheene

May , wi th a l le thy floures and thy greene,

We l come be thou,wel fa i re fressche May ,

I hOpe that I som greene gete may .

”

CHAUCER.

CUCKO O SONG .

SUMER is icumen in .

Lhude S ing cuccu .

Groweth sed

And bl oweth med

And Springth the wude

S ing cuccu !

Awe bleteth after l omb

Lhouth after ca l ve cu ;B ulluc sterteth,

Bucke verteth,

Mur ie s ing cuccu .

Cuccu,cuccu .

I Vel s inges thu cuccu,Ne swike thu naver nu.

BURDEN .

S ing cuccu , nu. S ing cuccu,S ing cuccu , s ing cuccu nu !

ENGL I SH :TH IRTEENTH CENTURY.

lhude ,loud awe , ewe lhouth , loweth sterteth , leap eth

swike . cease.


Now rings the wood land loud and l ong,

The d i stance takes a l ovel ier hue,

And drowned in yonder l i v ing b lue

The l ark becomes a s ight less song .

Now dance the l i ghts on l awn and lea,

The flocks are wh iter down the vale,

And mi lk ier every mi lky sa i lxO n wind ing stream or d i stant sea ;

“7here now the sea -mew p i pes , or d ives

In yonder green ing gleam,and fly

The happy b irds,that change their sky

'

To bu i ld and brood,that l i ve thei r l i ves

F rom land to l and ; and in my breastSpring wakens too ; and my regretBecomes an Apri l v i o let

,

And buds and blossoms l ike the rest .

ALFRED,LORD TENNYSON.

BE TR O THE D ANEW’

.

T H E sun l ight fi l l s the trembl ing a i r

And balmy days thei r guerdons br ing ;‘

The E arth aga in i s young and fa i r,And amorous wi th musky Spr ing.

‘

The golden nursl ings of the May

In sp lendor strew the spangled green,And hues of tender beauty play

,

E ntangled where the wi l l ows lean

THE S E AS ONS .

Mark how the r ippled currents flow ;What lustres on the meadows lie !

And hark ! the songsters come and go,

' And tr i l l between the earth and sky .

Who to l d us that the years had fledOr borne afar our bl i ssful youth ?

Such j oy s are a l l about us spre ad ;We know the wh isper was not truth .

The bi rds that break from grass and grove

S ing every caro l that they sung

When first our veins were ri ch wi th l ove

And May her mant le round'

us flung.

O fresh - l i t dawn ! immorta l l i fe !

O E arth ’s betrothal,sweet and true ,

Wi th whose del i ghts our soul s a re r i fe,

And aye thei r verna l vows renew !

Then,darl ing

,wal k with me th is morn ;

Let your brown tresses d rink its sheen

These vi o lets,wi th in them worn ,

O f flora l fays sha l l make y ou queen .

What though there comes a t ime of p ain

When autumn winds forebode deca vThe days of l ove are born aga in ;

That fab led t ime i s far awav !

And never seemed the land so fa i r

As now,nor b i rds such note s to s ing.

S ince first w ith in you r sh in ing ha i r

I WOVG the blossoms of the s pr ing .

EDMUND CLARENC E

93


THE PLOUGHMAN .

CLEAR the brown“

path to meet h i s coulter’s

g leam !

Lo ! on he comes,beh ind h i s smok ing team

,

W'

i th to i l ’s bright dew-drops on h i s sunburnt

brow,

The l ord of earth,the hero of the pl ough !

Fi rst in the fiel d before the redden ing sun,

Last in the Shadows when the day i s done,

L ine after l ine,a l ong the burst ing sod

Marks the broad acres where h i s feet have trod .

S t i l l where he treads the stubborn c l ods d iv ide

T he smooth,fresh furrow Opens deep and wide ;

Matted and dense the tangled turf upheaves,Me l l ow and dark the r idgy cornfiel d cleaves ;Up the steep h i l l s i de, where the l abor ing tra in

S l ants the l ong track that scores the leve l p l a in

Through the moi st va l ley,c l ogged wi th ooz ing

c lay,

T he pat ient convoy breaks i ts dest ined way ;At every turn the l oosen ing cha ins resound,T he swinging p loughshare c i rc les g l i sten ing

round,

T i l l the wide fiel d one b i l l owy waste appears,And wear ied hands unbind the pant ing steers .

T hese are the hands whose sturdy labor brings

T he peasant ’s food, the golden pomp of k ings ;T h i s i s the page. whose letters sha l l be seen,

C hanged by the sun to words of l i v ing green ;


Bowed thei r strong manhood to the humble

p lough,

S ha l l r i se erect,the guard i ans of the l and

,

The same stern i ron in the same r ight hand,

T i l l o’er the i r h i l l s the shouts of tr iumph run

,

The sword has rescued what the pl oughshare

won !

O L IVER WENDELL H O LM ES .

THE P LOUGH .

AB OVE yon sombre swel l of land

Thou seest the dawn’s grave orange hue,

Wi th one pa le streak l i ke ye l l ow sand,

And over that a vein of bl ue.

The a i r i s co l d above the woods ;A ll S i lent i s the earth and sky

,

E xcept w ith h i s own l onely moods

The b lackb i rd holds a col loquy .

O ver the broad h i l l creeps a beam ,

L i ke hope that gi l ds a good man’s brow ;And now ascends the nostr i l - steam

O f sta lwart horses come to p l ough .

Ye r igi d Ploughmen ! bear in mind

Your l abor i s for future hours .

Advance ! Spare not ! nor l ook beh ind !P l ough deep and stra ight w i th a l l

ers !

R ICH ARD H ENGI ST H ORNE .

THE S E AS ONS .

THEY COME ! THE ME RRY SUMME R

MONTH S .

TH EY come ! the merry summer month s of beauty,

song, and flowers ;They come I

’

the gladsome months that bring th i ck

leafiness to bowers .

Up, up , my heart ! and walk abroad ; fl ing carkand care as ide ;

Seek S i lent h i l l s,or rest thysel f where peaceful

waters gl i de ;O r

,underneath the shadow vast of patriarcha l

tree,

S can th rough i ts leaves the c l oud less sky in rapt

tranqu i l l i ty .

The grass i s soft , i ts ve l vet touch is grateful to

the hand ;And

,l ike the k iss of ma i den l ove, the breeze i s

sweet and b land ;The da i sy and the buttercup are nodd ing courte

ous ly ;

I t st i rs the ir b lood w ith k indest love, to bless and

wel come thee ;And mark how wi th th ine own th in l ocks— thev

now are s i l very gra y

That b l i ssfu l breeze i s wanton ing ,and wh i sper

ing,“ B e gay !

”

There i s no cl oud that sa i l s a l ong the ocean o f you

Sky

But hath i ts own winged mar iners to give it

mel ody ;V—7


Thou seest thei r gl i tter ing fans outspread,all

gleaming l ike red go l d °

And hark ! with shri l l p ipe musi cal,thei r merry

course they hol d .

God bless them al l,those l i tt le ones

,who

,far

above th i s earth,

Can make a scofl of i ts mean j oys,and vent a

nobler m i rth .

But soft ! mine ear upcaught a sound,

— from

yonder wood i t came !The sp i r i t of the d im '

green glade di d breathe h i s

own glad name'

Yes,i t i s he ! the herm it b i rd

,that

,apart from

al l h i s k ind,

S l ow spel l s h i s beads monotonous to the soft

western wind ;Cuckoo ! Cuckoo ! he S ings aga in

,—h i s notes are

vo i d of art ;But s implest stra ins do soonest sound the deep

founts of the heart .

Good Lord ! i t i s a grac i ous boon for thought

crazed W i ght l i ke me,

To sme l l aga in the summer fl owers beneath th i s

summer tree

To suck once more in every breath thei r l i ttle

sou l s away,

And feed my fancy wi th fond dreams of youth ’s

br ight summer day,

When,rush ing forth l i ke untamed co l t

,the reck

less,truant boy

Wandered through greenwoods a l l day long,a

mighty heart of j oy !


As we di d i t'

in the bustle

S carcely knowing how it was .

D own the glen,across the mounta in

O’er the yel l ow heath we roam

,

Wh i rl ing round about the founta in,

T i l l i ts l i tt le breakers foam .

Bend ing down the weep ing wi l l ows,

IVhile oar vesper hymn we s igh ;Then unto our rosy p i l l ows

O n our weary wi ngs we hie.

There of i d lenesses dreaming,

S carce from wak ing we refra in,Moments l ong

‘

as ages deeming

T i l l We ’re at our play aga in .

GEORGE DAR LEY.

A DROP OF D EW.

S E E how the or ient dew,

S hed from the bosom of the morn

Into the bl ow ing roses ,

(Yet careless of i ts mans ion new

For the c lear region where ’t was born )

R ound in i tse l f enc l oses,

And in i ts l i tt le gl obe s extentF rames

,as i t can

,i ts nat i ve e lement .

How i t the purple fl ower does sl ight,

S carce touch ing where i t l ies ;But gaz ing back upon the Sk ies

,

Sh ines w ith a mournfu l l ight,L i ke i ts own tear,

T HE SEAS ONS . 1 01,

Because so long d i vided from the sphere ;R est less i t rol l s

,and unsecure

,

T remb l ing,lest i t grow impure

,

T i l l the warm sun p i ties i ts pa in,

And to the sk ies exhales i t back aga in.

So the sou l,that drop

,that ray

O f the c lear founta in of eterna l day

Cou ld i t w i th in the human flower be seen,

R emember ing st i l l i ts former he ight

S huns the sweet leaves and bl ossoms green

And,reco l lect ing i ts own l ight

,

D oes,in i ts pure and c i rcl ing thoughts

,express

The greater heaven in a heaven less .

In how coy a figure wound ,E very way i t turns away

S o the worl d excl ud ing round,Yet rece i v ing in the day .

D ark beneath,but bright above ;

Here d isda in ing, there in l ove.

How l oose and easy hence to go !

How gi rt and ready to ascend !

Mov ing but on a point bel ow ,

I t a l l about does upwards bend .

S uch d i d the manna ’s sacred dew d i st i l ,

Wh i te and ent i re,a l though congea led and ch i l l ,

Congea led on earth, but does , d is so l v ing , run

Into the glor ies of the A lm igh ty sun .

ANDREW MA RVELL


I GAz ED upon the gl ori ous sky,

And the green mounta ins round,

And thought that when I came to lie

At rest w i th in the ground,

’T were pleasant that in flowery'

June

‘Vhen brooks Send up a cheerful tune,

And groves a cheerfu l sound,

The sexton’s hand,my grave to make

,

The r i ch,green mounta in turf shou l d break .

A cel l w i th in the frozen mould,

A coflin borne through s leet,

And icy c l ods above i t ro l led,Wh i le fiertze the tempests beat

Away ! I wi l l not th ink of these

Blue be the sky and soft the breeze,

E arth green beneath the feet,

And be the damp moul d gent ly pressed

Into my narrow pl ace of rest .

There,through the l ong

,l ong

,summer hours

5 The gol den l i gh t shou l d lie,

And th‘i ck young herbs and groups of flowers

S tand in the i r beauty by .

The ori o le shou l d bu i l d and tel l

H is l ove-ta le c l ose bes i de my cel l ;The i d le butterfly

Shoul d rest h im there,and there be heard

The housewi fe bee and humming -bi rd .


THE STORY OF A SUMME R DAY .

0 P ERFECT L i gh t,wh i ch sha i d away

The darkness from the l ight

And set a ruler o’er the day

,

Another o’er the n i ght

Thy glory , when the day forth fl ies,

More v i vely doth appear,

Than at m id day unto our eyes

The sh in ing sun i s c lear .

The shadow of the earth anon

R emoves and drawls by,

Wh i le in the E ast, when i t i s gone,Appears a clearer sky .

Wh i ch soon percei ve the l i tt le l arks,The l apwing and the sn i pe

,

And tune the i r songs, l i ke Nature’s c lerks

,

O’er meadow

,mu ir

,and str i pe.

O ur hemisphere i s polisht clean,And l ightened more and more ;Wh i le everyth ing i s clearly seen

,

Wh i ch seemit d im before ;

E xcept the gl i ster ing astres bright,

Wh i ch a l l the n i ght were c lear

O ffuskit with a greater l ight

No longer do appear.

THE S E AS ONS .

The go lden globe incont inent

Sets Iip h i s Sh in ing head,

And o’er the earth and firmament

D i sp lays h i s beams abread .

For j oy the b i rds wi th bou lden throats

Aga inst h i s V i sage Sheen

Take up the i r k indly musi ck notes

In woods and gardens green .

The dew upon the tender crops,

L ike pearlis wh i te and round,

O r l i ke to mel ted s i l ver drops,

R efreshis a l l the ground .

The misty reek,the c l ouds of ra in

From tops of mounta ins ska i ls,

C lear are the h ighest h i l ls and pla in,

The vapours take the va les .

The ample heaven,of fabrick sure,

In c leanness does surpass

The crysta l and the S i l ver pure,

O r c learest polisht glass .

The t ime so tranqu i l is and st i l l ,That nowhere sha l l ye flnd

,

S ave on a h igh and barren h i l l ,An a i r of peep ing wind .

All trees and s imples , great and sma l l

That balmy lea f do bea r,

T han they were pa inted on a wa l l ,No more they move or stei r.


Calm i s the deep and purple sea,

Yea,smoother than the sand ;

The waves, that wel ter ing wont to be,Are stable l i ke the l and .

So s i lent i s the cess ile a i r

That every cry and ca l l

The h i l l s and da les and forest fa i r

Aga in repeats them al l .

The flouri shes and fragrant flowers,

Through Phoebus ’ fostering heat,

R efreshed w i th dew and s il ver showers,

Cast up an odour sweet .

The cloggit, busy humming bees,That never th ink to drone

,

On flowers and flouri shes of trees,

Co l lect thei r l i quor brown .

The Sun,most l ike a speedy post

,

Wi th ardent course ascends ;The beauty of the heavenly host

Up to our zen i th tends .

Not gui ded by a PhaetonNot tra ined in a cha i r

,

But by the h igh and holy One,

Who does a l lwhere emp ire.

The burn ing beams down from h i s face

So fervent ly can beat,

That inan ‘ and beast DOW - seek a p laceTo save them f rom the heat .


The scarlet nor the go lden thread,

Who would the i r beauty try,

Are noth ing l ike the col or red

And beauty of the sky .

O ur west hori zon c i rcu lar

From t ime the sun be set,

I s a l l w i th rubies,as i t were

,

Or roses red o’erfret.

What pleasure were to walk and see,

E ndl ong a ri ver c lear,

The perfect form of every tree

IVithin the deep appear .

0,then i t were a seemly . th ing

Wh i le al l i s st i l l and ca lm ,

The pra i se of God to pl ay and s ing

I Vith cornet and with sha lm !

All l abourers draw home at even,

And‘

can to other say,

Thanks to the grac ious God of heaven,

Wh i ch sent th i s summer day !

ALExANDE R H UME .

KNE E—DE E P IN JUNE .

TELL you wha t I l ike the best

Long about knee -deep in June,’Bout the t ime strawberries mel t s

O n the Vines— some afternoon

THE SEAS ONS . 1 09.

L ike to jes’ gi t out and rest

,

And not work at noth in’el se !

O rchard’s where I ’ ruther be

Needn’t fence i t in for me !

Jes ’ the whole Sky overhead

And the whole a i rth underneath—e

S orto ’ so ’s a man kin breath

L i ke he ort,and k indo ’ has

E lbow - room to keerlesslySpraw l out len’thways on the grass,Where the shadows th ick and soft

As the kivvers on the bed

Mother fixes in the l oftA lluS when tlley

’s company !

Jes’ a sort 0 ’ la z ein’ there

S’ l azy

,

’at you peek and peer

Through the wavin’ leaves above,L i ke a fel ler ’ats in l ove

And don’t know i t,nor don’t keer !

E ver’thing you hear and see

Got some sort 0 ’ interest

Maybe find a bl uebi rd’

s nes t

Tucked up there conveenently

Fer the boys ’ats apt to be

Up some other apple- tree !

Watch the swa l lers skootin’

pas t’Bout as peert as you could a s t ;

E r the Bobwh i te ra ise and Wh i z“’here some other ’s wh i st le is .

1 1 0 POEMS OF NATUR E .

Ketch a shadder down bel ow,

And l ook up to find the crow ;E r a hawk away up there

,

’P earantly froze in the a i r !

Hear the old hen squawk,and squat

Over every ch i ck she’S got

,

S udden - l i ke — And she knows where

That -a i r hawk i s,wel l as you !

You jes’bet yer l i fe she do '

E yes a -gl i ttering l ike glass,Waitin

’ t i l l he makes a pass !

P ee-wees’ s ingin’

, to express

My op in i on ,

’s second c l ass

,

Yit you ’ll hear ’em more er less ;

S apsucks gi tt in’ down to b iz

Weed in’ out the l onesomeness ;Mr. Bluej ay

,fu l l 0 ’ sass

,

In them base-ba l l c l othes 0 ’his

,

Sportin round the orchard jes’

L i ke he owned the premi ses !

Sun out in the fiel ds kin s i zz,

But flat on your back,I guess

,

In the Shade ’s where gl ory i s !

That ’s jes

’ what I ’d l i ke to do

S t i ddy for a year or two !

P l ague ! i f they a in’t sompin’ in

Work ’at k indo ’ goes agin


D rap asleep,and i t turns in

’Fore dayl i ght and snows agin !

But when June comes— C lear my throat'

YVith wi l d honey ! R ench my ha i r

In the dew ! and hold my coat !IVhoop out l oud ! and throw my hat

June wants me, and I’m to spare !

Spread them shadders anywhere,

I ’ll gi t down and wal ler there,And obleeged to you at that

l

JAM E S WH ITCOM B R I LEY.

BALLADE OF MID SUMME R DAYS AND

NIGHT S .

WITH a r ipple of leaves and a t ink le of streamsThe ful l worl d rol l s in a rhythm of pra i se,

And the winds are one with the c l ouds and

beams

Mi dsummer days ! midsummer days !

The dusk grows vast ; in a purple haze,Wh i le the west from a rapture of Sunset r ights,Faint stars thei r exqu i s i te l amps upra i se

Mi dsummer n i ghts ! 0 midsummer n ights !

The wood ’s green heart i s a nest of dreams,The l ush grass th i ckens and spr ings and sways

The rathe wheat rust les,the l andscape gleams

Mi dsummer days ! midsummer days !In the st i l ly fiel ds

,in the st i l ly ways,

All secret shadows and my st i c l i ghts,

Late l overs murmurous l inger and gaze

Midsummer n ights ! 0 midsummer n i ghts !

THE S EAS ONS . 1 1 3

here ’s a mus i c of be l l s from the trampl ing teams

Wi ld Skylarks hover,the gorses b laze

he r i ch r ipe rose as with incense steams

Midsummer days ! midsummer days !'

A sou l from the honevsuckle strays,

nd the n i gh t inga le as from prophet heights

S ings to the earth of her mi l l i on Mays

Mi dsummer n ights ! 0 mid summer n ights !

ENVOY .

'

And i t ’s oh ! for my dear, and the charm that

stay s

Mi dsummer day s ! midsummer days !

I t ’S oh ! for my l ove, and the dark tha t pl ights

Midsummer n i ghts ! 0 midsummer n ights !

W ILL IAM ERNEST H ENLEY.

INVO CAT ION TO RAIN IN SUMME R .

O GENTLE,gent le summer ra in

Let not the S i l ver l i ly pine,The droop ing l i ly p ine in va in

To fee l that dewy touch of th ine,

To drink thy freshness once aga in,

0 gent le,gent le summer ra in !

In heat the land scape qui vering l ies ;

The cattle pant beneath the t ree ;

Through parch ing a ir and pu rple sk ies

The earth l ook s up , in va in,for thee ;

For thee for thee ,i t l ooks in va in ,

O gent le,gent le summer rr

i "

V—8


Come thou,and brim the meadow streams

,

And soften a l l the h i l l s w i th m i st,

O fa l l ing dew! from burn ing dreams

By thee Sha l l herb and flower be k i ssed,

And E arth shal l bless thee yet aga in,0 gent le, gent le summer ra in .

W I LL IAM cox B ENNETT .

RAIN IN SUMME R .

How beaut i fu l i s the ra in !

After the dust and heat,

In the broad and fiery street,

In the narrow lane

H ow beaut i fu l i s the ra in !

How it cl atters a l ong the roofs,L i ke the tramp of hoofs '

How i t gushes and struggles out

From the throat of the overflowing spout !

Across the window -pane

I t pours and pours ;And swift and wide,Wi th a muddy t ide,L ike a ri ver down the gutter roars

The rain,_the we l come ra in !

The s i ck man from h i s chamber l ooksAt the tw i sted brooks ;He can feel the coo l

Breath of each l i tt le poo l ;

1 1 6 POEMS OF NATURE .

Near at hand,

From under the Shel ter ing trees

The farmer sees

H is pastures,and h i s fiel ds of gra in

,

AS they bend the i r tOps

To the number less beat ing dropsO f the incessant ra in .

H e counts i t as no S in

That he sees there in

O n l y h i s own thr i ft and ga in.

These,and far more than these

The Poet sees !

He can behol d

Aquari us ol d

Walk ing the fenceless fiel ds of a i r ;And from each ample fo l d

O f the c l ouds about h im ro l led

S catter ing everywhere

The Showery ra in,

As the farmer scatters h i s gra in.

He can behol d

T h ings man i fo l d

That have not yet been whol l y to ld ,H ave not been whol ly sung nor sa id .

For h i s thought,that never stops

Fol l ows the water -drops

D own to the graves of the dead,

D own,

through chasms and gul fs profound ,TO

’

the dreary founta in-head

O f l akes and r i vers underground ;And sees them ,

’

when the ra in i s done,

TH E SE AS ONS . 1 1 7

On the bridge of col ors seven

C l imbing up once more to heavenO pposi te the sett ing sun.

Thus the Seer

IVith v i s i on c lear

Sees forms appear and d isappear,

In the perpetua l round of strange,

My ster i ous change

From bi rth to death,from death to b i rth

From earth to heaven,from heaven to earth

T i l l gl impses more subl ime

O f th ings,unseen before

,

Unto h i s wandering eyes re vea l

The Uni verse,as an immeasurable wheel

Turning forevermore

In the rap i d and rush ing ri ver of T ime

H E NRY WAD S VVO R T II

BE FOR E T IIE RAIN .

WE knew i t woul d ra in , for a l l the morn

A Spi ri t on slender I-

O pes of m i st

Was l ower ing its golden buckets down

Into the vapory amethy s t

Of marshes and swamps and d i sma l fe l ts

S coop ing the dew tha t lav in the fl owe rs .

D i pp ing the jewel s out o f the sea ,

To scatter them ove r the land in showe rs .

'I’ ve knew.

‘

it wou ld ra in . fo r the po pla rs showed

the i r leaves . the ambe r gra in

1 1 8 POEMS OIV NATURE .

S hrunk in the wind— and the l i ghtn ing now

I s tangled in tremulous ske ins of ra in.

TH OMAS B A ILE Y AL DR ICH.

S IGNS OF RAINJ”

F O R TY R E AS O NS F O R N O T ACCE P T ING AN INV IT Ac

T I ON O F A F R IE ND T o MAKE AN E X CURS IO N W ITHH IM.

TH E hol low w inds begin to b low °

The c l ouds look b l ack, the glass i s l ow

The soot fa l l s down, the span iel s S leep

,

And sp i ders from thei r cobwebs peep .

Last n igh t the sun went pa le to bed,

The moon in ha los h i d her head ;The boding shepherd heaves a si gh ,For see

,a ra inbow spans the sky !

The wal l s are damp , the di tches smel l ,Closed i s the p ink -eyed p impernel .

H ark how the cha i rs and tables crack !Old Betty ’s nerves are on the rack

Loud quacks the duck , the peacocks cry,The d istant h i l l s are seeming n i gh .

How rest less are the snort ing swine !

The busy fl ies d i sturb the k ine,

Low o’er the grass the swal l ow wings

,

The cr i cket,too

,how sharp he s ings !

Puss on the hearth,with vel vet paws

,

S i ts wip ing o’er her wh i skered jaws ;

Verified by Darwin , say s C . C . B om baugh in his

Gleanings from the Harvest: F ields of Literature ,

”

though h is version of the lines varies somewhat; from this.


T i l ts the l oose planks,and then as gradual ly

ceases

In dust on the other s ide ; l i fe’s emblem deep

,

A confused no i se between two s i lences,

F inding at last in dust precar ious peace.

O n the wide marsh the purple-bl ossomed grasses

S oak up the sunsh ine ; sleeps the brimm ing t ide,S ave when the wedge -shaped wake in s i lence

passes

O f some s l ow water -rat,whose s inuous gl i de

Wavers the l ong green sedge’s Shade from sideto S i de

But up the west , l i ke a rock - sh i vered surge,

Cl imbs a great c loud edged w i th sun-wh i tenedspray ;

H uge Wh i r l s of foam bo i l toppl ing o’er i ts verge

,

And fa l l ing st i l l i t seems,and yet i t c l imbs

a lway .

S uddenly a l l the sky i s h i dAs with the shutt ing of a l i d,

O ne by one great drops are fal l ing

D oubtfu l and S lOW '

D own the pane they are crookedly crawl ing,And the wind breathes l ow ;

S l owly the c i rc les w iden on the r i ver

Widen and mingle,one and a l l ;

Here and there the s lenderer flowers sh i ver

S truck by an i cy ra in-drop ’s fa l l .

Now on the h i l l s I hear the thunder mutter,Thewind i s gather ing in the west ;

The upturned leaves first wh i ten and flutter,Then droop to a fitful rest ;


p from the stream w ith sl uggish flap

S truggles the gul l and floats away ;Nearer and nearer rol l s the thunder - c lap

,

We sha l l not see the sun go down to day

Now leaps the wind on the S leepy marsh,

And tramples the grass wi th terr ified feet,

The start led ri ver turns leaden and harsh,

You can hear the qui ck heart of the tempest

beat .

Look ! l ook ! that l i vi d flash !

And instant ly fo l l ows the ratt l ing thunder,AS i f some c l oud - crag , sp l i t asunder,

Fel l,sp l intering wi th a ru inous crash ,

On the E arth , wh i ch crouches in s i lence under ;

And now a sol id gray wa l l of ra in

S huts off the l andscape, mi le by mi le ;For a breath ’s space I see the blue wood aga in,

And,ere the next heart -beat , the wind -hu rled p i le ,

That seemed but now a league a loof ,

Bursts crack l ing o'

er the sun- pa rched roo l'

;

Aga inst the windows the storm come s dash ing,

Through tattered fol iage the ha i l tea rs crash ing .

T he b lue l ightn ing Hashes ,

T he r ap id ha i l c lashes ,

The wh i te waves a re tumbl ing.

And,in one ba ffled roa r,

L i ke the tooth less sea mumbl i ng

A rock -br is t led sho re ,

The thunder is rumbl ing

And cra sh ing and c rumbl ing,

“f i l l s i lence retu rn

1 22 POEMS OF NATUR E

Hush ! S t i l l a s death,

The tempest ho lds h i s breath

As from a sudden wi l l ;T he ra in stops short , but from the eaves

You see i t drop , and hear i t from the leaves,

A ll i s so bodingly st i l l °

Aga in,now

,now ; aga in

P l ashes the ra in in heavy gouts,

The crink led l ightn ingS eems ever brighten ing

,

And l oud and l ong

Aga in the thunder shouts

H is battle- song,

O ne qu i ver ing flash,

One wi l der ing crash,

Fol l owed by s i lence dead and dul l,

A s i f the c l oud,let go

,

Leapt bodi ly bel ow

T o whelm the earth in one mad overthrow,

And then a tota l l u l l .

Gone,gone

,so soon !

No more my ha lf - crazed fancy there

Can Shape a gi ant in the a i r,

NO more I see h i s streaming ha i r,The writh ing portent of h i s form ;

The pale and qu iet moon

Makes her ca lm forehead bare,And the

,

l ast fragments of the storm ,

L ike shattered rigging from a fight at sea

S i lent and few,are dri ft ing over me.

JAMES RU S SELL LOWE LL.

{1 24 P OE JIS OF NATUR E .

Ha ! many a fo l i aged guard ian of the height,

Majest i c p ine or chestnut,r iven and bare

,

F a l l s in the rage of that aeri a l fight,

Led by the Prince of a l l the Powers of a i r !

Vast boughs l ike shattered banners hurt l ing fly

D own the th i ck tumu lt : wh i le,l ike emera ld

snow,

M i l l i ons of orphaned leaves make wi l d the sky,

O r dri ft in shudder ing hel p lessness bel ow .

S t i l l,st i l l

, the level led lances of the ra in

At earth ’s ha l f - sh ielded breast take gl i tter inga im ;

A ll space i s r i fe w ith fury, racked wi th pa in,E arth bathed in vapor

,and heaven rent by

flame !

At l ast the c l oud -batta l i ons through l ong r ifts

O f l um inous m ists ret i re — the str ife i s done

And earth once more her wounded beauty l ifts,

To meet the hea l ing k i sses of the sun .

P AU L H AM I LTON H AYNE .

RA IN .

MORE than the wind,more than the snow,

More than the sunsh ine,I l ove ra in :

Whether i t droppeth soft and l ow,

Whether i t rusheth ama in .

D ark as the n i ght i t spreadeth i ts w ings,S l ow and s i lent ly

,up on the hiIIS

'

THE S E AS ONS . 1 25

Then sweeps o’er the vale

,l i ke a steed that springs

From the grasp of a thousand wi l l s .

Swi ft sweeps under h eaven the raven ’s fl ight ;

And the l and and the l akes and the mainL ie bel ted beneath wi th steel -bright l ight

,

The l igh t of the swi ft - rush ing ra in .

O n even ings of summer,when sunl ight is low

S oft the ra in fa l l s from opa l -hued sk ies :AI nd the flowers the most del i cate summer can

Show

Are not st i rred bv i ts gent le surpr ise .

I t fa l l s on the pool s,and no wrink l ing it makes

But touch ing mel ts in,l i ke the smi le

That S inks in the face of'

a dreamer. but b reaks

Not the ca lm of h i s dream ’s happ y w i le .

The grass rises up as i t fa l l s on the meads ,

The bi rd softl ier s ings in his bowe r.

And the c i rcles of gna ts c i rc le on l i ke winged

seeds

Through the soft sunny l ines o f the showe r.

lil l z l'IN IAIl lt

TH E DANC ING O F .\ l l

AND now behold your tende r nu rse . the a ir.

And common ne ighbor tha t a re runs a round .

How many p i ctu res and impre s s io ns fa i r‘W' i th in her empty regions a re the re found .

Wh i ch to your senses da nc i ng do pro pound !


For what are breath,speech

,echoes

,mus i c

,winds

,

But. danc ings of the a i r in sundry k inds ?

For when you breathe,the air in order moves,

Now in,now out

,in t ime and measure true ;

And when you speak,so we l l She danc ing loves,

That doubl ing oft,and oft redoubl ing new

,

I Vith thousand forms She doth hersel f endue

For a l l the words that from your l ips repa i r,

Are naught but tr i cks and turn ings of the a i r.

Hence i s her pratt l ing daughter,E cho

,born

,

That dances to a l l vo i ces She can hear

There i s no sound so harsh that she doth S corn,

Nor any t ime wherein she wi l l forbear

The a i ry pavement w ith her feet to wear

And yet her hearing sense i s noth ing qu i ck,

For after t ime she endeth every tr i ck .

'And thou , sweet Mus i c, danc ing’s on ly l i fe

,

The ear’s sole happ iness,the a i r’s best speech,

Loadstone of fel l owsh ip,charm ing-rod of str i fe

,

The soft m ind ’s parad i se,the s i ck m ind ’s leech

Wi th th ine own tongue thou trees and stones

canst teach,

That,when the a i r doth dance her finest measure,

iThen art thou born, the gods

’and men

’s sweet

p leasure.

Lastly,where keep the winds thei r revel ry,

Thei r v i o lent turn ings,and wi ld wh irl ing hays,

But in the a i r ’s trans lucent ga l lery,


T i l l c loud and tempest,creep ing lower

,

O ld Djouce’s r idges swathe in n i ght

,

And down through a l l h i s ho l l ows pour

The foam ing torrents swoln and wh ite °

O r when o’er P owerscourt’s leafless woods

,

Wi th crests that down the tempest leanBend , braving winter

’s fiercest moods,

The p ines in a l l thei r wea l th of‘

green .

GEORGE FRANC I S SAVAGE -ARM STRONG .

ODE TO THE W’

E ST WIND .

O W ILD West Wind,thou breath of Autumn’s

being,

Thou,from whose unseen presence the leaves dead

Are dri ven,l i ke ghosts from an enchanter flee ing,

Ye l l ow,and black , and pa le, and hect i c red

,

P est i lence- str i cken mult i tudes ! O thou,

Who chariotest to thei r dark,wintry bed

The winged seeds,where they lie co ld and l ow

,

E ach l i ke a corpse wi th in i ts grave,unt i l

T h ine azure S i ster of the S pring sha l l bl ow

H er clar ion o’er the dream ing earth

,and fi l l

( D r i v ing sweet buds , l i ke flocks , to feed in a i r )Wi th l iv ing hues and odors , pla in and h i l l :

Wi l d sp i r i t , wh i ch art mov ing everywhere ;D estro y er and preserver ; hear, O hear !

THE S E AS ONS . 1 29

Thou on whose stream,

’mid the steep sky ’s com

mot i on,

Loose c l ouds l i ke earth ’s decay ing leaves are shed,

S hook from the tangled boughs of heaven and

ocean

Angel s of ra in and l i ghtn ing : there are spreadO n the b lue surface of th ine a i ry surge

,

L i ke the bright ha i r upl i fted from the head

Of some fierce Maenad,even from the dim verge

Of the hori zon to the zen i th’

s he igh t,

The l ocks of the approach ing storm . Thou d i rge

O f the dy ing year,to wh i ch th i s c l os ing n igh t

Wi l l be the dome of a vas t sepul ch re

Vau l ted w i th a l l thy congrega ted might

O f vapors ; from whose sol id atmosphere

Black ra in,and fire

,and ha i l , wi l l burs t : hear !

Thou who d i dst waken from his summer d reams

The blue Med i terranean,where he la y .

Lu l led by the co i l o f his cr y s ta l l ine s treams ,

les ide a pum i ce i s le in la ia ~

’

s ba v.

And saw in s leep o ld pa la ces a nd towers .

Qu i ver ing wi th in the u aves‘

i ntense r da v.

All overgrown wi th azu re moss and tlowe rs

S O sweet, the sense fa in ls p i c tur i ng tlieni f'

l‘

hou

For Whose path the Atlan ti c’

s leve l powe rs

V—9


C leave themsel ves into chasms,wh i le

,far bel ow,

The sea -b looms,and the oozy woods wh i ch wear

The sap less fo l i age of the ocean,know

Thy vo i ce, and sudden ly grow gray w ith fear,

And tremble and despo i l themsel ves :0 hear !

If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear ;I f I were a sw ift c l oud to fly with thee ;A wave to pant beneath thy power and share

The impul se of thy strength— on ly less free

Than thou,O uncontrol lable ! I f even

I were as in mv bo y hood , and cou ld be

The comrade of thy wander ings over heaven

A S then,when to outstri p thy Skyey speed

S carce seemed a v i s ion, I would ne’er have striven

As thus w ith thee in prayer in my sore need .

O h ! l i ft me as a wave, a leaf, a c loud !

I fa l l upon the thorns of l i fe ! I bleed !

A heavy we ight of hours has cha ined and bowed

One too l ike thee— tameless,and sw i ft, and proud.

Make me thy lyre, even as the forest i s .

What i f my leaves are fa l l ing l ike i ts own !The tumult of thy mighty harmon ies


T H E CLOUDS S ING .

Immorta l C l ouds from the echo ing shore

Of the father O f streams from the sound ing sea,

D ewy and fleet,let us r i se and soar ;

Dewy and gleaming and fleet are we !

Let us l ook on the tree- c lad mounta in - crest,

O n the sacred earth where the fru i ts rej oi ce,

On the waters that murmur east and west .

O n the tumbl ing sea with h i s moan ing vo i ce.

For unwear ied gl i tters the E ve of the A ir

And the bright rays gleam

Then cast we our shadows of m i st , and fare

In our death less Shapes to gl ance everywhere

From the hei gh t of the heaven,on the l and and

a i r,

And the O cean S tream .

Let us on, ye Ma idens that br ing the R a in,

Let us gaze on Pa l l as ’s c i tadel ,In the country of Cecrops fa i r and dear,The my st i c l and of the hol y cel l ,Wh ere the R i tes unspoken securel y dwel l ,

And the gifts of the gods that know not sta in

And a people of morta l s that know not fear .

For the temples ta l l and the statues fa i r ,

And the feasts of the gods are hol iest there ;

The feasts of Immorta l s , the Chaplets of flowers,And the Brom ian mirth at the com ing of spring,

And the musi ca l vo i ces that fi l l the hours .And the danc ing feet of the ma ids that s ing !

From the Greek of AR I STO P H ANE S .

Translation of ANDRE ‘V LANG .

THE SE AS ONS .1 33

THE CLOUD .

I B R I NG fresh Showers for the th i rst ingflowers ,

From the seas and the streams ;

I bear l i ght shade for the leaves when l a i d

In the i r noonday dreams .

From my wings are Shaken the dews that waken

As she dances about the sun .

I wie l d the fla i l of the lash ing ha i l ,

And wh iten the greenp la ins under ;

And then aga in I di ssol ve i tin ra in,

And l augh as I pass inthunder .

I S i ft the snow on the mounta ins bel ow,

And the i r great p inesgroan aghast ;

And al l the n igh t’t i s my p i l l ow wh i te ,

Wh i le I S leep in the arms of the blast .

S ub l ime on the towers of m y Skyey bowers

L ightn ing , my p i l ot , si ts :

In a cavern under i s fettered the thunde i

l t struggles andhowl s by ti ts .

O ver earth and oce.

Lured by the l ove of the geni i tha t move

In the depths of the purple sea ;

O ver the r i l l s and the c rags and the h i l l s ,

Over the lakes and pla ins ,

\Vherever he d ream ,under moun ta in o r s tre

The sp i r i t he l ovesrema ins ;

i l l l l ,

1 34 POEMS OF NATURE .

And I a l l the wh i le bask in heaven’s b lue smile,

W'

h i l st he i s d i sso l v ing in ra ins .

The sangu ine sunr i se,with h i s meteor eves

And h i s burn ing p lumes outspread,

Leaps on the back of my sa i l ing rack,

Wh en the morn ing star sh ines dead .

As,on the jag of a mounta in crag“

’

h i ch an earthquake rocks and swings,

An eagle, a l i t , one moment may S it

In the l ight of i ts golden w ings ;And when sunset may breathe

,from the l i t sea

beneath,

I ts ardors of rest and of l ove,

And the cr imson pa l l of eve may fal lFrom the depth of heaven above

,

I Vith wings fol ded I rest on mine a i ry nest

As st i l l a s a brood ing dove.

That orbed mai den with wh i te fire l aden,

“'

hom morta l s ca l l the moon,

Gl ides gl immer ing o’er mv fleece - l i ke fl oor

By the midn i ght breezes strewn ;And wherever the beat of her unseen feet .

“'

h i ch on l y the angels hear ,

May have broken the woof of my tent ’s th in rOof,

The stars peep beh ind her and peer ;And I laugh to see them wh i rl and flee

L i ke a swarm of gol den bees,When I wi den the rent in my wind -bu i l t tent

T i l l the calm ri vers,l akes

,and seas

,

L ike stri ps of the sky fal len through me on h igh

Are each paved wi th the moon and these.


SUMME R MOOD S .

I LOVE at event i de to wa lk a lone,

D own narrow glens , o’erhung with dewy thorn

Where from the l ong grass underneath,the sna i l

Jet black,creeps out

, and sprouts h i s t im i d horn

I l ove to muse o’er meadows newly mown

,

I'Vhere wi ther ing grass perfumes thesul try a i r ;“’here bees search round

, wi th sad and wearydrone

,

In va in , for flowers that bl oomed but newlythere ;

Wh i le in the j u i cy corn the h i dden qua i lCries, “’

et my foot ; and,h id as thoughts un

born,

The fa i ry - l i ke and sel dom -seen l and - ra i l

Utters Cra i k , cra i k ,” l i ke vo i ces underground

R igh t glad to meet the even ing’s dewy vei l,

And see the l i ght fade into gl oom around .

JOH N CLARE .

IN PRA ISE OF ANGL ING .

QU IVER I NG fears , heart - tear ing cares,

Anx i ous s ighs, unt ime ly tears,Fly

,fly to courts

,

Fly to fond worl d l ings ’ Sports,

Where stra ined sardon i c sm i les are gloz ing

And grief i s forced to l augh aga inst her wi l l

W'

here mirth ’s but mummery

And sorrows only rea l be .

TH E S E AS ONS . 1 37

F ly from our country past imes,

fly,

Sad troops of human misery ;Come

,serene l ooks

,

C lear as the crysta l brooks,

O r the pure azured heaven that smi les to

The ri ch attendance on our poverty ;Peace and a secure mind

,

Wh i ch a l l men seek,we on ly find .

Abused morta l s ! d id you know

\Vhere j oy , heart’s ease

,and comforts grow

,

You ’d scorn proud towers

And seek them in these bowers,

Where winds, somet imes, our woods perhaps mavshake

,

But blustering care cou ld never tempest make ;Nor murmurs e

’

er come ni gh us ,

S av ing of founta ins that gl i de by us .

Here ’s no fantast i c mask or dance ,

But of our k ids that fr i sk and prance ;Nor wars are seen

Unless upon the green

Two harmless lambs are butt ing one the o the r.

Wh i ch done, both bleat ing run , ea ch to his mo the r ;

And wounds are never found ,

S ave what the ploughsha re gives the

ground .

Here are no entrapp ing ba i ts

To hasten to too has tv fates :

Unless i t be

The fond credulitv


O f s i l ly fish,wh i ch (worl dl ing l ike ) st i l l l ook

Upon the ba i t , but never on the hook

Nor envy,

’ less among

The bi rds,for pri ce. of thei r sweet sono'

.

Go,let the d iving negro seek

For gems,h i d in some forl orn creek

We a l l pearl s scorn

S ave what the dewy morn

Congea l s upon each l i tt le sp i re O f grass,

Wh i ch careless Shepherds beat down as they pass ;And gol d ne

’er here appears

,

S ave what the ye l l ow Ceres bears .

Blest s i lent groves,0

,may you be

,

Forever,mi rth ’s best nursery !

May pure contents

Forever p i tch thei r tents

Upon these downs,these meads

,these rocks

,these

mounta ins !

And peace st i l l s l umber by these purl ing foun

ta ins,

Wh i ch we may every year

Meet,when we come a -fishing here.

S IR H ENRY WOTTON .

THE ANGLE R ’S WISH .

I I N these flowery meads woul d be,

T hese cry sta l stream s shoul d sol ace me ;

To whose harmon i ous bubb l ing no i se

I,wi th my angle , woul d rej o i ce,S it here

,and see the turt le -dove

Court h i s chaste mate to acts of l ove '

1 40 P OEMS OF NATURE .

O nly th i s

Lawful i s ;For our sk i l lBreeds no i l l

,

But content and p leasure.

When we please to wal k abroadFor our recreat i on

,

In the fiel d s i s our abode,

Ful l of delectat i on,

“mere,in a brook

,

Wi th a hookO r a lake

,

Fi sh we take ;There we S it

,

For a bi t,

T i l l we fi sh entangle.

We have gent les in a horn

I Ve have paste and worms too ;

I’ Ve can watch both n i gh t and morn,

S uffer ra in and storms too ;None do here

Use to swear :

O aths do fray

Fi sh away ;I

V

e s i t st i l l,

“'

atch our qu i l l

F i shers must not wrangle.

I f the sun’s excessi ve heat

Make our bod ies swel ter ,

THE S EAS ONS .1 4 1

To an osier hedge we get,

For a friendly shel ter ;

Vt’here, in a dike,

P erch or p ike,

R oach or dace,

IVe do chase ,

Bleak or gudgeon,

W' i thout grudging ;

We are st i l l contented .

O r we somet imes pass an hour

Under a green wi l l ow ,

That defends us from a shower,

Mak ing earth our p i l l ow ;

Where we mayTh ink and pra y ,

Are but toys ,And to be lamen ted .

JO HN C IIALKH ILL.

V

SVVIMMIIV

FROM “T H E Two

Il ow many a time have I

Cloven,with arm st i l l lus tler ,

b rea s t mo re da rin ".

The wave al l roughened ; wi th a swimme r

’

s s troke

Fl inging the b il l ows backfrom m y d renched ha i r

And l augh ing from my l i ps the auda c ious brine ,

Wh i ch k issed i t l ike a wine-cup .

The waves as they a rose ,a nd p rouder s ti l l

ri s ing o'

er

1 42 POEMS OF NATURE .

The l oft ier they upl i fted me ; and oft,In wantonness of Sp i r i t

,pl unging down

Into the i r green and glassy gul fs,and mak ing

My way to shel l s and sea -weed,a l l unseen

By those above,t i l l they waxed fearful ; then

R eturn ing wi th my grasp ful l of such tokensAS showed that I had searched the deep ; exul t ing,Wi th a far -dash ing stroke

,and drawing deep

The l ong - suspended breath,aga in I

h

s'

purned

The foam wh ich broke around me,and pursued

My track l i ke a sea -bi rd .— I was a boy then .

LORD B YRON.

THE PLE ASUR E BOAT .

COME,hoi st the sa i l

,the fast let go !

They ’re seated S i de by S i de :

Wave chases wave in pleasant flow ;The bav i s fa i r and wide.

The r ipp le‘

s l ight ly tap the boat ;Loose ! G i ve her to the wind !

She shoots ahead ; they’re a l l afloat ;

The strand i s far beh ind .

No danger reach so fa i r a crew !

Thou goddess of the foam ,

I ’ll ever pay thee worsh ip due,I f thou w i l t br ing them home.

Fai r l ad ies,fa i rer than the spray

The prow i s dash ing w ide,

1 44 POEMS OF NATUR b .

For,see

,the winged fisher’s p lume

I s pa inted on the sea ;

Bel ow,a cheek of l ovely bl oom .

Whose eyes l ook up to thee ?

She sm i les ; thou need’st must sm i le on her.

And see,bes ide her face

,

A r i ch , wh i te c l oud that doth not st i r :

What beauty,and what grace !

And p i ctured beach of yel l ow sand,

And peaked rock and h i l l,

Change the smooth sea to fa i ry - l and ;How l ovely and how st i l l !

F rom that far i sle the thresher ’s fla i l

S tr ikes c l ose upon the ear ;

The leap ing fi sh,the swinging sa i l

Of yonder sl oop,sound near .

The part ing sun sends out a gl ow

Across the plac i d bay,

T ouch ing wi th glory a l l the show.

A breeze ! Up helm ! Away !

Careen ing to the wind,they reach

,

Wi th l augh and ca l l,the shore.

{They ’ve left thei r footpr ints on the beach

,

But them I hear no more .

R ICH ARD H ENRY DANA.

THE S EAS ONS .

THE SO L ITARY I VO OD SMAN .

WH EN the gray lake -water rushes

P ast the dri pp ing a lder -bushes,

And the bodeful autumn wind

In the fir- tree weeps and bushes,

When the a i r i s sharply dampR ound the sol i tary camp

,

And the moose-bush in the th i cketG l immers l ike a scarlet l amp

When the bi rches tw inkle yel l ow,

And the cornel bunches mel l ow,

And the owl across the twi l ight

T rumpets to h i s downy fel l ow,

When the nut- fed ch ipmunks romp

Through the maples ’ cr imson pomp,And the S l im V i burnum tlashes

In the darkness of the swamp ,

Wh en the blueberr ies a re dead ,"

When the rowan c lusters red,

And the shy bear, summe r- s leekened ,

In the bracken makes h is bed ,

O n a day there comes once mo re

To the l atched and l one ly doo r ,

D own the wood - road s trid i ng s i lent .

O ne who has been he re be fo re

V—IU

1 45


Green spruce branches for h i s head,

Here he makes h i s S imp le bed

Crouch ing wi th the sun,and r i s ing

When the dawn i s frosty red .

All day l ong he wanders wi de’

“7i th the gray moss for h i s gu i de,

And h i s lonel y axe - stroke start les

The expectant forest - S i de .

T oward the qu iet c l ose of day

Back to camp he takes h i s wa yAnd about h i s sober footsteps

Unafra i d the squ i rrel s p l ay .

O n h i s roof the red leaf fa l l s,

At h i s door the b lue jay cal l s,And he hears the wood -mi ce hurry

Up and down h i s rough l og wal l s

Hears the laughter of the l oon

Thr i l l the dying afternoon,

Hears the ca l l ing of the moose

E cho to the early moon .

And he hears the partr idge drumming,The be l ated hornet humming ,

A ll the fa int , prOphetic sounds

That foretell the winter’

s com ing.

And the wind about h i s eaves

Through the ch i l l y n ight -wet gr ieves,

And the earth ’s dumb pat ience fi l l s h im,

Fel l ow to the fa l l ing leaves .

CH ARLE S G . D . R O BERTS .

1 48 PO EMS OF NATUR E .

The wi l d fowl fly afar

Above the foamy bar,

And hasten southward ere the sk ies are frown ing.

Now comes a fragrant breeze

T hrough the dark cedar -trees

And round about my temples fondl y l ingers,

In gent le p layfu lness,

L i ke to the soft caress

Bestowed in happ ier days by lov ing fingers .

Yet,though a sense of grief

Comes w ith the fa l l ing leaf,

And memory makes the summer doubly p leasant,In al l my autumn dreams

A future summer gleams,

P ass ing the fa i rest gl or ies of the present !

GEORGE ARNOLD .

THE LATTE R RAIN .

T H E l atter ra in,— it fa l l s in anxi ous haste

Upon the sun -dried fields and branches bare,

Loosen ing w ith search ing drops the r igi d waste

As i f i t woul d each root ’s l ost strength repa i r ;But not a bl ade grows green as in the spr ing ;No swel l ing twig puts forth i ts th i cken ing leaves ;The robins only mi d the harvests s ing,Peck ing the gra in that scatters from the sheaves ;The ra in fa l l s st i l l

,— the fru i t a l l r ipened drops,

I t p ierces chestnut -bur and wa lnut - shel l

The furrowed fields d i sc lose the yel l ow crops ;

THE SE AS ONS . 1 49

ach bursting pod of ta lents used can tel l ;And al l that once recei ved the early ra inD ec lare to man i t was not sent in va in .

JONES VERY .

TO AUTUMN .

S EASON of m i sts and mel l ow fru i tfu lness !

Close bosom - fr iend of the maturing sun !

Consp i r ing with h im how to load and bless

“’ i th fru i t the v ines that round the thatch -eaves

run

To bend wi th apples the mossed cottage trees ,And fill a l l fru i t wi th ri peness to the core

To swel l the gourd,and plump the hazel

shel l s

Wi th a sweet kernel— to set budd ing , more

And st i l l more,l ater flowers for the bees ,

Unt i l they th ink warm days wi l l never cease ,

For summer has o’er-brimmed the i r c lamm y

cel l s .

“7ho hath not seen thee oft amid thv s tore ?

S omet imes whoever seek s abroad ma v tind

Thee s i tt ing careless on a grana ry tloo r,

Thy ha i r soft - l i fted by the winnowing w ind ;

O r on a ha l f- reaped fu rrow sound a s lee p ,

D rowsed wi th the fume of popp ies , wh i le th y

hook

Spares the next swath and a ll its twined

flowers ;And somet ime l i ke a gleaner thou dos t keep

S teady thy laden head a cross a brook ;


O r by a c i der -press,with pat ient l ook ,

Thou watchest the . l ast o oz ings, hours b

hours .

Where are the songs of Spr ing ? Ay, where ar

they ?

Th ink not of them— thou hast thy mus i c too

Wh i le barred cl ouds bl oom the soft -dy ing day,

And touch the stubble-plains w ith rosy hue

Then in a wai l fu l cho i r the sma l l gnats mourn

Among the r i ver sa l l ows , borne a l oft

O r s ink ing,as the l ight w ind l i ves or d ies ;

And fu l l -grown l ambs l oud bleat from h i l ly bourn ,

Hedge- cr i ckets S ing ; and now w ith treble soft

The redbreast wh i st les from a garden - croft,

gathering swa l l ows twi tter in the sk ies .

JOH N KEATS .

HARVE ST SONG .

S ICKLES soundOn the ground

Fast the r i pe ears fa l l ;E very ma iden’s bonnet

Has blue bl ossoms on i t

Joy i s over a l l .

S i ck les r ing,

Ma idens s ingTo the s i ck le’s sound ;

T i l l the moon i s beaming

And the stubble gleaming,Harvest songs go round .


What a brave sp lendorIs in the O ctober a i r ! how r i ch

,and c lear

,

And brac ing, and a l l - j oyous ! We must renderLove to the Spring - t ime

,with i ts sprout ing?

tender,

As to a ch i l d qu i te dear ;But Autumn i s a th ing of perfect gl ory

,

A manhood not yet hoary .

I l ove the woods,

In th i s good season of the l i bera l year ;I l ove to seek thei r leafy so l i tudesAnd give mysel f to mel ancho ly moods

,

Wi th no intruder near,

And find strange lessons,as I s i t and ponder

,

In every natura l wonder .

But not al one

As S hakespeare’s mel ancholy court ier l ovedArdennes

,

Love I the brown ing forest ; and I ownI woul d not oft have mused , as he, but flown

To hunt w ith Amiens

And l i tt le thought,as up the bol d deer bounded

,

O f the sad creature wounded .

A brave and good,

But world-worn kn i ght— sou l -wear ied w i th h i s

part

In th i s vexed l i fe— gave man for sol i tude,And bu i l t a l odge

,and l i ved in Wantley wood

To hear the bel l ing hart .

It was a gent le taste, but i ts sweet sadnessY iel ds to the hunter ’s madness .

THE S EAS ONS . 1 53

What pass i onateAnd keen de l i ght i s in the proud swi ft chase !

Go out what t ime the l ark at heaven’s red gate

S oars j oyously S inging— qu i te infuri ate

Wi th the h igh pr i de of h i s p lace ;What t ime the unri sen sun arrays the morning

In i ts first bright adorn ing .

Hark ! the qu i ck hornAs sweet to hear as any c lar ion

P ierc ing with si l ver cal l the ear of morn ;And mark the steeds, stout Curta l and T Opthorne,

And Greysteil and the D on

E ach one of them hi s fiery mood d i splay ingWi th pawing and with neigh ing .

Urge your swi ft horse

After the cry ing hounds in th i s fresh houI

Vanqu i sh h i gh h i l l s,stem peri lous s treams per

force,

O n the free pla in give free wings to y our course .

And you w i l l know the powe r

O f the brave chase , Ind how of grie fs the sorest

A cure i s in the forest .

O r sta l k the deei

The same red l i p of dawn has k i ssed the h i l l s ,

The gladdest sound s are c rowd i ng o n y our car .

There i s a l i fe in a ll the a tmos phe re :

You r very natu re fi l ls

Wi th the fresh hou r , a s up the h i l l s aspi r ing

You c l imb wi th l imbs unti ring .


I t i s a fa i r

And goodl y S ight to see the ant lered stag

Wi th the l ong sweep of h i s sw i ft walk repa i rT o j o in h i s brothers ; or the p lethor i c bear

Ly ing in some h igh crag,

Wi th p inky eyes hal f c l osed,but broad head

shak ing,

As gadfl ies keep h im wak ing .

And these you see,

And,seeing them

,you travel to thei r death

Wi th a S l ow,stea l thy step

,from tree to tree,

N ot ing the wind,however fa int i t be.

The hunter draws a breath

In t imes l ike these,whi ch

,he wi l l say

,repays

For a l l care that waylays h im .

A strong j oy fi l l s

(A j oy beyond the tongue’s express i ve power )My heart in Autumn weather— fi lls and thr i l l s !

And I woul d rather sta l k the breezy h i l l s

Descend ing to my bower

N i ght ly , by the sweet sp i r i t of Peace attended,Than p ine where l i fe i s sp lend i d .

PH IL IP P E NDLE I ON COOKE .

HUNT ING SONG .

WAKEN l ords and l ad ies gay,

O n the mounta in dawns the day ;All the j ol ly chase i s here,Wi th hawk and horse and hunt ing-spear !

1 56 P OEMS OF NATUR E .

THE HUNTE R ’S SONG .

R ISE ! S leep no more ! ’T i s a nob le morn.

The dews hang th i ck on the fr inged thorn,

And the frost Shrinks back l i ke a beaten hound,

Under the steam ing,steam ing ground .

Behol d,where the b i l l owy clouds flow by

,

And leave us a l one in the c lear gray sky !

O ur horses are ready and steady — So,ho !

I ’m gone,l i ke a dart from the Tartar’s bow .

H ark,harh .

’ —Who ca lleth the maiden Morn

F rom her s leep in the woods and the stubble

corn ?

The horn,—the horn !

The merry , sweet ring of the hunter’s horn.

Now,through the copse where the fox i s found

And over the stream at a m ighty bound,

And over the h igh lands and over the l ow,

O’er furrows

,o’er meadows

,the hunters go !

Away —as a hawk fl ies ful l at h i s prey,

S o fl ieth the hunter, away , away!

From the burst at the cover t i l l set of sun ,

When the red fox d ies,and— the day i s done.

Hark,hark !— What sound on the wind is borne?

’T is the conquering voice of the hunter’s horn

The horn,— the horn !

The merry , bold voice of the huh ter’s horn.

S ound ! S ound the horn ! To the hunter goodWhat ’

S the gul ly deep or the roaring flood ?

THE S EAS ONS . 1 57’

R ight over he bounds,as the wi ld stag bounds

,

At the heel s of h i s swi ft , sure, s i lent hounds .

Oh, what del i ght can a morta l l ack ,When he once i s firm on h i s horse’s back

,

Wi th h i s st irrups short, and h i s sna ffle strong,And the blast of the horn for h i s morn ing song .

H ark,hark ! N ew home ! and dream till morn

O f the bo ld , sweet sound of the hunter’s horn !

The horn,— the horn !

Oh,the sound of a ll sounds is the hunter

’

s horn

B RYAN WALLER P ROCTER (B a rry Cornwa ll )

THE HUNTE D SQUIR R E L .

FROM B R ITANN IA ’S P ASTORALS ,”UK . I . S ONG 5

TH EN as a n imble squ irrel from the wood ,

R anging the hedges for h i s fi lbert- food ,

S i ts pert ly on a bough his brown nut s crack ing ,

And from the she l l the sweet wh ite ke rne l tak ing .

T i l l w i th the i r crooks and bags a sort o f bo vs ,

To share with h im ,come with so great a no ise

That he i s forced to leave a nut nigh broke

And for h i s l i fe leap to a ne ighbor oak ,

Thence to a beech , thence to a row o f a shes ;

Wh i l st through the quagm i res and red wa te r

plashes

The boys run dabbl ing th orough th i ck and th in ,

O ne tears h is hose ,anothe r break s h is sh in ,

T h is,torn and tat tered , ha th wi th much ado

Got by the briars ; and tha t ha th lo s t h isshoe :

Th i s drops h i s band ; tha t head lo ng fa l l s fo r lia s tl

Another cries beh ind for be ing la s t


Wi th st i cks and stones, and many a sound ing hol.l ow

,

The l i tt le foo l wi th no smal l sport they fo l l ow,

Wh i l st he from - tree to tree,from spray to spray

,

Gets to the wood,and h i des h im in h is dray .

W I LL IAM B ROWNE .

A HUNT ING WE IVILL GO .

T H E dusky n i ght r i des down the sky,

And ushers in the morn

T he hounds a l l j oin in gl or i ous crv,

The huntsman winds h i s horn,

And a hunt ing we wi l l’

go.

T he wife around her husband throws

Her arms to make h im stay ;My dear

,i t ra ins

,i t ha i l s

,i t b l ows ;

You cannot hunt to -day .

”

Yet a hunt ing we wi l l go.

Away they fly to ’scape the rout,

Thei r steeds they soundly sw i tch ;S ome are thrown in

,and some thrown out

,

And some thrown in the d i tch .

Yet a hunt ing we wi l l go.

S ly R ey nard now l ike l i ghtn ing fl ies,

And sweeps across the va le ;And when the hounds too near he Sp ies

,

He drops h i s bushy ta i l .

Then a hunt ing we wi ll go.

Fond E cho seems to l ike the sport,And jo in th e j ovial cry ;


The ant lered monarch of the waste

S prung from h i s heathery couch in haste.

But,ere h i s fleet career he took

,

The dew-drops from h i s flanks he shook ;L ike crested leader proud and h igh

T ossed h i s beamed front let to the sky ;A moment gazed adown the dale

,

A moment snuffed the ta inted ga le,

A moment l i stened to the cry,

That th i ckened as the chase drew n igh ;Then

,as the headniost foes appeared

W’

i th one brave bound the copse he c leared,

And,stretch ing forward free and far,

S ought the wi l d heaths of Uam -Var.

Yel led on the v iew the open ing pack ;R ock

,glen

,and cavern pa id them back ;

To manv a m ingled sound at once

T he awakened mounta in gave response.

A hundred dogs bayed deep and strong,

C l attered a hundred steeds a l ong,

T hei r pea l the merry horns rung out,

A hundred vo i ces jom ed the shout ;I Vith hark and whoop and wi l d ha l l oo

,

No rest B envoirlich’s echoes knew .

Far from the tumul t fled the roe ;

C l ose in her covert cowered the doe ;T he fa l con

,from her ca i rn on h igh

Cast on the rout a wondering eye,

T i l l far bey ond her p ierc ing ken

T he hurri cane had swept the glen.

Fa int,and more fa int , i ts fa i l ing d in

R eturned from cavern,c l i ff

,and l inn ,


And s i lence settled,wide and st i l l

,

On the l one wood and mighty h i l l .

’T were l ong to tell what steeds gave o’er

,

As swept the hunti

through Cambus -more ;What reins were t i ghtened in despa i r

,

When rose B enled i’s r idge in a ir ;

Who flagged upon B ochastle’s heath

,

Who shunned to stem the flooded Teith

For twi ce that day , from shore to Shore,

The gal l ant stag swam stout ly o’er.

Few were the stragglers , fol l owing far,That reached the lake of Vennachar ;

And when the Brigg of Turk wa s won,The headmost horseman rode a l one

Al one , but w i th unbated zeal ,That horseman pl ied the S courge and steel ;

For, j aded now,and Spent wi th to i l ,

Embossed w ith foam ,and dark with so i l ,

Wh i le every gasp wi th sobs he d rew,

The laboring stag stra ined ful l in view.

Two dogs of black S a int Ilubert’

s breed ,

Unma tched for courage , brea th , a nd S peed ,

Fast on h i s flving tra ces came ,

And a l l but won that des pe ra te ganu

For ,scarce a spea r’s length from h is haunch ,

V ind i ct i ve to i led the bloodhound s s taunch :

Nor neare r m ight the dogs a tta i n ,

Nor farther might the qua rrv s tra in .

Thus up the ma rgin o f the lake .

Between the prec i p i ce and brake .

O’er stock and rock the i r race thev take .

V— l l


The hunter marked that mounta in h igh,

The l one l ake’s western boundary,

And deemed the stag must turn to bay

W’

here that huge rampart barred the way ;A l ready glorving

'

in the pr ize,

Measured h i s ant lersWi th his eyes ;For the death -wound and death -ha l loo

Mustered h i s breath,h i s wh iny ard drew ;

But thunder ing as he came prepared,

T Vith ready arm and weapon bared,

The wi ly quarry shunned the Shock,

And turned h im from the oppos ing rock ;T hen

,dash ing down a darksome glen

,

S oon l ost to hound and hunter ’s ken,

In the deep T rosachs ’ wi ldest nookH is sol i tary refuge took .

T here wh i le,c l ose couched

,the th i cket shed

C ol d dews and wi l d - flowers on h i s head,

H e heard the baffled dogs in va in

R ave through the hol l ow pass ama in

C h i d ing the rocks that yel led aga in .

C l ose on the hounds the hunter came,

To cheer them on the van i shed game ;But , stumbl ing in the rugged de l l ,T he ga l l ant horse exhausted fe l l .

T he impat ient r i der strove in va in

T o rouse h im w ith the spur and rein,For the good steed

,h i s l abors o’

er,

S tretched h i s st iff l imbs,to r i se no more ;

T hen,touched w ith p i ty and remorse,

H e sorrowed o’er the exp ir ing horse

I l i tt le thought,when first thy rein

1 64 PO EMS OF NATUR E .

Aga inst the breeze he darts,that way the more

To leave the lessen ing murderous cry beh ind :

D ecept i on short ! though fleeter than the winds

Blown o’er the keen -a ired mounta in by the north

,

He bursts the th i ckets,glances through the

glades,

And p lunges deep into the wi l dest wood,

If S l ow, yet sure, adhes i ve to the track

Hot- steaming,up beh ind h im come aga in

The inhuman rout,and from the Shady depth

E xpel h im,c i rc l ing through h i s every sh ift .

He sweeps the forest oft ; and sobbing sees

The gl ades,mi l d Open ing to the gol den day,

Where,in k ind contest , with h i s butt ing friends

He wont to struggle,or h i s l oves enj oy .

Oft in the fu l l -descend ing flood he tr ies

To l ose the scent,and l ave h i s burn ing s i des ;

O ft seeks the herd ; the watchfu l herd, a larmedWi th selfish care avo i d a brother’s woe .

I Vhat Sha l l he do ? H is once so v iv i d nerves

So fu l l of buoyant Sp i r i t, now no more

Insp i re the course ; but fa int ing breath less to i l ,S i ck

,sei zes on h i s heart :he stands at bay ;

And puts h i s l ast weak refuge in despa i r .

The b ig round tears run down h i s dappled face ;He groans in angu i sh ; Wh i le the growl ing pack ,Blood -happy

,hang at h i s fa i r j utt ing chest

And mark h i s beauteous checkered s i des w i th

gore.

JAME S TH OM SON.

TH E S E ASONS .

THE OLD SQUIRE .

I L IKE the hunt ing of the hareBetter than that of the fox ;

I ’ l ike the j oyous morn ing a i r,

And the crowing of the cocks.

I l ike the ca lm of the early fiel ds,

The ducks asleep by the l ake,The qu iet hour wh i ch Nature y iel ds

Before mank ind i s awake.

I l i ke the pheasants and feed ing th ings

Of the unsusp i c ious morn ;I l i ke the flap of the wood -p igeon’

s wings

As She r i ses from the corn .

I l ike the bl ackb i rd ’s shriek . and h is rush

From the turn i ps as I pass by ,

And the partr idge h id ing her head in a

For her young ones cannot fly .

I l ike these th ings, and I l ike to r ide,When al l the worl d is in bed ,

To the top of the h i l l where the skv grows

And where the sun grows red .

The beagles at my horse -heel s trot

In S i lence after me ;

There’s R uby , R oger , D iamond , l io t‘

,

O ld S l ut and Margery ,

A score of names we l l used . and dea l‘

.

The names my ch i ldhood knew ;

The horn . w i th wh ich I rouse the i r chee r,

Is the horn my father blew.

1 65

E1 66 POEMS OF NATUR E .

I l ike the hunt ing of the hareBetter than that of the fox ;

The new worl d st i l l i s a l l less fa ir

Than the o l d worl d i t mocks .

I covet not a wi der range

Than these dear manors gi ve ;I take my pleasures w ithout change

,

And as I l i ved I l ive.

I leave my neighbors to the i r thought ;My cho i ce I t i s, and pri de,

On my ot y

n l ands to find my sport,

In my own fiel ds to r i de.

The hare hersel f no better l oves

The fiel d where she was bred,

Than I the hab i t of these groves,My own inher i ted .

I know m y quarries every one,

The meuse where she S i ts IOW °

The road she chose to day was run

A hundred years ago .

The l ags,the gi l l s, the forest ways,

The hedgerows one and a l l ,These are the k ingdoms of my chase

And bounded by my wa l l ;

Nor has the worl d a better th ing,T hough one shoul d search i t round

Than thus to l i ve one’s own so le k ing,Upon one’s own sole ground .

POEMS OF NATURE .

No sky— no earth ly v iew

No d i stance l ook ing b lue

No road— no street— no t ’ other s i de the way

N0 end to any R ow

No indi cat i ons where the Crescents goNo top to any steeple

No recogn i t i ons of fam i l iar peop le

No courtes ies for show ing ’em

No know ing ’em !

No travel l ing at a l l— no l ocomo ti on,

No ink l ing of the way— no not i on

No go — by l and or ocean

No mai l— no post

No news from any forei gn coast

No park— no r ing— no afternoon gent i l i ty

No company— no nobi l i ty

No warmth,no cheerfulness

,no hea l thfu l ease

,

No comfortable feel in any member

No shade,no sh ine

,no butterfl ies

,no bees

,

No fru i ts,no flowers

,no leaves

,no bi rds

,

November !

TH OMAS H OOD.

WHE N THE FR O ST IS ON THE PUNKIN .

WH EN the frost i s on the punk in and the fodder ’s

in the shock ,And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the strut

tin’ turkey - cock

,

And the clackin’ of the guineys, and the cluckin

’

of the hens,And the rooster’s hally looyer as he t iptoes on the

fence ;

THE S EAS ONS . 1 69

i t ’s then ’

s the t imes a fel ler i s a -teel in’ at h i s'

best,

i th the risin’sun to greet h im from a n ight of

peacefu l rest,

s he leaves the house,bare-headed

,and goes out

to feed the stock

hen the frost i s on the punk in and the fodder ’s

in the shock .

They " s someth ing k indo ’ harty - l ike about the at

mustere

When the heat of summer ’s over and the cool in’

fa l l i s here

O f course we miss the flowers,and the blossuins on

the trees,

And the mumble of the humm in’-b irds and buz z in

'

of the bees ;But the a i r ’

s so appetiz in’

and the landscape

through the ha z e

O f a cri sp and sunny morn ing of the a irlv autumn

days

I s a pictur’ that no painter has the colorin

‘

to

mock

When the frost i s on the punk in and the fmhlc r’s

in the shock .

The husky,rusty russel of the tossc ls o f the c o rn .

And the raspin’ of. the tangled lcavc s . a s gublcn

as the morn ;The stubb le in the furries— kim lo

’

lmwsmnc -Iilw ,

but st i l l

A -

preachin’

sermuns to us of the barns thcv

growed to fill ;

1 70 PO EMS OF NATURE .

The strawstack in'

the medder,and the reaper in

the shed ;The bosses in theyr Sta l ls bel ow— the

'

c l over over

head !

0,i t sets my hart a -clickin’ l ike the tickin’ of a

c l ock,

When the frost i s on the punk in and the fodder ’s

in the shock .

JAM E S WH IT COMB R I LEY.

AUTUMN :A D IRGE .

TH E warm sun i s fa i l ing,the bleak wind i s wa i l

ing,

The bare boughs are s igh ing,the pale flowers are

dy ing,

And the year

O n the earth her deathbed,in a shroud of leaves

dead,

I s lying .

Come,month s

,come away

,

From November to May ,

In your saddest array ;Fol l ow the b ier

Of the dead co ld year,

-And l i ke dim shadows watch sepul chre.

The ch i l l ra in i s fal l ing, then ipt worm i s crawl

ing,

The r ivers are swel l ing , the thunder i s knel l ingFor the year ;

1 72 POEMS OE NATURE .

Then n i gh t ly s ings the staring owl,

To-whoo

To-wh i t,to -whoo

,a merry note

,

Wh i le greasy Joan doth kee l the pot .SH AKESPEARE.

WINT E R .

A SONG T O B E SUNG B EH I ND T H E STOVE .

O LD Winter i s the man for me

S tout -hearted,sound

,and steady ;

S tee l nerves and bones of brass hath he

Come snow,come bl ow . he

’s ready '

I f ever man was wel l,

’t i s he ;

He keeps no fire in h i s chamber,

And yet from col d and cough i s free

In b i tterest D ecember .

H e dresses h im out -doors at morn,

Nor needs he fi rst to warm h im ;T oothache and rheumatis

’he

’1 1 scorn,

And co l i c don’t a l arm h im .

In summer when the woodland r ings,He ask s “What mean these no i ses ?

Warm sounds he hates and a l l warm th ings

Most heart i ly desp i ses .

But whenthe fox ’s bark i s l oud ;I Vhen the br i ght hearth i s snapp ing ;

THE S EASONS . 1 73

When ch i ldren round the ch imney crowdAll sh iver ing and cl app ing

,

When stone and bone with frost do break,

And pond and l ake are crack ing,

Then you may see h i s o l d sides shake,

S uch glee h i s frame i s rack ing.

Near the North Pole,upon the strand

,

He has an i cy tower ;L ikewi se in l ovely Switzerland

He keeps a summer bower .

So up and down— now here— now there

H is regiments manoeuvre ;When he goes by , we stand and stare ,

And cannot choose but sh iver.

F romthe Germ a n of N AT'

rnm s em um us .

Trans lation of C HARLE S T IMO THY B RO O KS .

HOW smal l a tooth hath m ined the season’

s

heart !

How co l d a touch ha th set the wood on li re .

Unt i l i t blazes l ike a, cos tly p y re

Bui l t for some ( fl anges empe ro r, o ltl a nd swa r l ,

S oul - sped on cl oud s o f i ncense ! Who se the a rt

That webs the streams,ea ch morn, wi th s i l ver

wi re,

D el i cate as the tens i on of a l vre ,

1 74 POEMS OE NATUR E .

Whose fa l ch i on pries the chestnut -bur apart ?

It i s the Frost, a rude and Goth i c spri te,

Who doth unbu i l d the S ummer ’s pal aced wea l th

And puts her dear l oves a l l to sword or fl i ght ;Yet in the hushed

,unmindfu l w inter’s n i ght

The spo i ler bu i l ds aga in with jea lous stea lth,

And sets a mimi c garden,col d and bright .

ED ITH MAT I LDA TH OMAS.

SNOW—FLAKE S .

O UT of the bosom of the A ir,

Out of the c l oud - fo l d s of her garments Shaken,

O ver the woodl ands brown and bare,

O ver the harvest fiel ds forsaken ,

S i lent and soft and s l ow

D escends the snow .

E ven as our c l oudy fanc ies takeS udden ly shape in some d iv ine express ion

,

E ven as the troubled heart doth make

In the wh i te countenance confess ion,

The troubled Sky revea l s

The grief i t feel s .

Th i s i s the poem of the a i r,

S l owly in S i lent sy l lables recorded ;Th i s i s the secret of despa i r ,Long in i ts c l oudy bosom hoarded

Now wh i spered and revea led

To wood and fiel d .



SNOW—FLAKE S .

WH ENEVER a snow -flake leaves the sky,

I t turns and turns to say Good -bye !

Good -bye, dear c l ouds, so coo l and gray !

Then l ightly travel s on i ts way .

And when a snow -flake finds a tree,

Good -day ! i t says Good -day to thee !

Thou art SO bare,and l onely

,dear

I ’1 1 rest and ca l l my comrades here.

B ut when a snow -flake,brave and meek

,

L i gh ts on a rosy ma iden’s cheek,

I t starts How warm and soft the day !’T i s summer ! — and i t me l ts away .

M ARY M APE S DODGE .

THE SNOVV—STORM.

ANNOUNCED by a l l the trumpets of the Sky ,

Arri ves the snow ; and , dri v ing o’er the fields

,

S eems nowhere to a l ight ; the wh i ted a i r

H i des h i l l s and woods . the r i ver, and the heaven,And ve i l s the farmhouse at the garden’s end .

The s led and travel ler stopped,the courier ’s feet

De l ayed,a l l fr iends shut out

,the housemates S it

Around the radiant firepl ace, enc l osedIn a tumul tuous pr i vacy of storm .

Come see the north -W ind ’s masonry !

Out of an unseen quarry, evermore

TH E S EAS ONS . 1 77

urnished with t i le,the fierce artificer

urves h i s wh i te bast i ons with projected roofund every windward stake or tree or door ;ced ing

,the myriad -handed

,h i s w i ld work

fanc i fu l,so savage ; naught cares he

r number or proport ion . Mock ingly,

coop or kennel he hangs Pari an wreaths ;wan - l ike form invests the h idden thorn ;S up the farmer’s l ane from wal l to wa l l

,

the farmer’s s ighs ; and at the gate

ing turret overtops the work .

And when h i s hours are numbered,and the world

IS a l l h i s own,ret ir ing as he were not

,

Leaves,when the sun appears

,aston i shed Art

To mim i c in S l ow structures,stone by stone,

Bui l t in an age, the mad w ind’s n i ght -work ,

The fro l i c arch i tecture of the snow .

RALP H WALDO EMERSON.

THE SNO\V

TH E great soft downy snow - storm l ike a c l oak

D escends to wrap the lean worl d head to fee l ;

I t gi ves the (lead another wind ing- shee t.

I t buries a l l the roofs unt i l the smoke

Seems l ike a sou l that from its c lav ha s broke .

I t broods moon- l i ke upon the Autumn whea t.

And vi s i ts a l l the trees in the i r re trea t

To hood and mant le tha t poor sh i ve ring fo l k .

Wi th wintrv bl oom i t fi l l s the ha rshes t grooves

In j agged p ine - stump fences . E verv sound

I t hushes to the t'

oots tep o i'

a nun .

Sweet Chari ty ! tha t brightens where it moves


Induc ing darkest b i ts O f chur l i sh groundTo give a rad iant answer to the sun .

E T H E LWYN WETH ERALD .

THE SNO ‘W—SHOWE R .

STAND here by my S i de and turn,I pray

,

O n the lake be l ow thy gent le eyes ;The c l ouds hang over i t

,heavy and gray

,

And dark and S i lent the water l ies ;And out of that frozen mist the snow

In waver ing flakes begins to flow ;Flake after flake

They S ink in the dark and s i lent l ake.

S ee how in a l i v ing swarm they come

From the chambers beyond that m i sty

S ome hover awh i le in ai r,and some

R ush prone from the sky l i ke summer

All,dropp ing sw i ft ly or sett l ing sl ow

,

Meet,and are st i l l in the depths bel ow ;

Flake after flakeD i sso lved in the dark and s i lent l ake.

Here del i cate snow - stars,out of the c l oud ,

Come float ing downward in a i ry p lay,

L i ke spangles dropped from the gl i sten ing crowdThat wh i ten by n ight the Mi l ky W'

ay ;

There broader and burl ier masses fa l l ;The sul len water buries them al l ,

Flake after fl ake,

All drowned in the dark and S i lent l ake.

1 80 POEMS O E NATUR E .

The c l oud and the water no more i s seen ;Flake after flake

At rest in the dark and S i lent lake.

WI LL IAM CU LLEN B RYANT.

THE SNO \VING OF THE PINE S .

SOFTER than S i lence,st i l ler than st i l l a i r

F l oat down from h igh p ine-boughs the s lenderleaves .

The forest floor i ts annua l boon recei ves

That comes l i ke snowfa l l,t i reless

,tranqu i l

,fa i r.

Gent ly they gl i de,gent ly they c l othe the bare

O ld rocks w ith grace. The i r fa l l a mant le weaves

O f paler yel l ow than autumna l sheaves

Or those strange b l oss oms the witch -hazel s wear.

Athwart l ong a i s les the sunbeams p ierce the ir

way ;H i gh up , the crows are gather ing for the n ight ;The del i cate need les fi l l the a i r ; the j ay

Takes through thei r go l den mist h i s radiant

fl i ght ;They fa l l and fa l l , t i l ] at November

’s c l ose

The snow -flakes drop as l i ghtly— snows on snows.TH OMAS WENTWORTH H I GG INSON .

A SNOW—STORM.

SCENE I N A VERM ONT WINTER .

’T IS a fearful n i ght in the winter t ime,As col d as i t ever can be ;

The roar of the b last i s heard l ike the ch imesO f the waves on an angry sea .

THE S E ASONS . 1 81'

The moon i s fu l l ; but her s i l ver l ight

The storm dashes out wi th i ts wings to -night ;And over the sky from south to north

Not a star i s seen,as the wind comes forth

In‘

the strength of a mighty glee.

All day had the snow come down,— a l l day

AS i t never came down before ;And over the h i l l s

,at sunset

,lay

S ome two or three feet,or more ;

The fence was l ost,and the wal l of stone ;

The windows bl ocked and the wel l - curbs gone ;The liavstack had grown to a mounta in l i ft.

And the wood -p i le l ooked l i ke a monster dri ft,AS i t l ay by the farmer’s door

The n i ght sets in on a worl d of snow,

Wh i le the a ir grows sharp and ch i l l ,And the warn ing roar of a fearfu l b low

I s heard on the d i stant h i l l ;And the norther

,see ! on the mounta in peak

In h i s breath how the o ld trees wri the and shriek !He shouts on the pla in,

ho -ho ! hO -ho !

He dri ves from his nostri l s the bl ind ing snow,

And growl s w i th a savage wi l l .

Such a n i gh t as th i s to be found abroad ,

In the dri fts and the freez ing a ir ,

S i ts a sh i vering dog , in the fie ld , b y the road ,Wi th the snow in h i s shaggy ha i r.

He shuts h i s eyes to the wind and growl s ;

He l i fts h i s head and moans and howl s ;

Then crouch ing low,from the. cutt ing s leet ,


H is nose i s pressed on h i s qu i ver ing feet,

Pray,what does the dog do there ?

A farmer came from the vi l lage p la in,

But he l ost the travel led way ;And for hours he trod wi th m ight and main

A path for h i s horse and S le igh ;But co l der st i l l the co l d w inds blew

,

And deeper st i l l the deep dri fts grew,And h i s mare

,a beaut i fu l Morgan brown

,

At l ast in her struggles floundered down,

Wh ere a log in a ho l l ow lay .

In va in,with a nei gh and a frenz ied snort

,

She p lunged in the dri ft ing snow,

Wh i le her ma ster urged,t i l l h i s breath grew short

,

Wi th a word and a gent le bl ow ;But the snow was deep

,and the tugs were t ight ;

H is hands were numb and had l ost thei r m ight ;S O he wa l lowed back to h i s ha lf -fi lled s le i gh

And strove to shel ter h imsel f t i l l day,

Wi th h i s coat and the bufialo.

He has given the l ast fa int jerk of the reinTo rouse up h i s dying steed ;

And the poor dog howl s to the blast in va in

For hel p in h i s master ’s need .

For awh i le he str i ves w i th a wi stfu l cry

To catch a glance from h i s drowsy eye,

And wags h i s ta i l i f the rude winds flap

The sk i rt of the buffa l o over h i s lap ,And wh ines when he takes no heed .

L1 84.

POEMS OE NATUR E .

;The dry leaves rust led in each pass ing breath,

And the gay worl d was l ost in qu iet S leep .

S uch was the t ime when,on the l andscape brown

,

Through a D ecember a i r the snow came down.

The morn ing came,the dreary morn

,at last

,

And Showed the wh itened waste. The Sh ivering herd

Lowed on the hoary meadow -ground,

-

and fast

Fe l l the l ight flakes upon the earth unst i rred ;The forest fi rs w ith gl i tter ing snows o

’erla id

S tood l i ke hoar pr iests in robes of wh ite array ed .

JOH N H OWARD BRYANT.

WINTE R SCE NE S .

FROM T H E SEASONS :WI NTER .

TH E keener tempests r i se ; and fum ing dun

From a l l the l i v i d east,or p ierc ing north

,

Th i ck c l ouds ascend ; in whose capac i ous wombA vaporv de luge l ies, to snow congealed .

Heavy they ro l l the i r fleecy worl d a long ;And the Sky saddens w i th the gathered storm .

Through the hushed a i r the wh itening shower descends

At first th in wavering ; t i l l at l ast the flakes

Fa l l broad and wide and fast, dimm ing the dayWi th a cont inual flow . The cher i shed fiel ds

Put on thei r w inter robe of purest wh ite.

’T i s br i ghtness a l l ; save where the new snow

mel ts

Al ong the mazy current . Low the woods

THE SE ASONS . 1 85

Bow thei r hoar head ; and, ere the l anguid sun

Faint from the west emits h i s even ing ray ,

E arth ’s un i versa l face,deep h id and ch i l l

,

I s one wide dazz l ing waste , that buries wi deThe works of man . D rooping

, the l aborer -ox

S tands covered o’er wi th snow

,and then demands

The fru i t of a l l h i s to i l . The fowl s of heaven,

Tamed by the crue l season,crowd around

The winnowing store,and c la im the l i ttle boon

Wh i ch Prov i dence ass igns them . O ne a lone

The redbreast,sacred to the household gods

,

W'

i sely regardfu l of the embroi l ing skv,

In j oy less fiel ds and thorny th i ckets leaves

H is sh i ver ing mates,and pays to trusted man

H is annua l v i s i t . Ha l f afra i d,he firs t

Aga inst the window beats ; then,bri sk . a l ights

O n the warm hearth ; then, hopping o’er the fl oor,

E yes al l the smi l ing fam i ly askance,And pecks

,and starts

,and wonders where he is

T i l l,more fam i l iar grown , the table - crumbs

Attract h i s s lender feet . The food les s w i lds

P our forth thei r brown inhabitants . T he hare,

Though t imorous of heart , and ha rd bese t

B y death in var i ous forms,dark sna res . and dogs ,

And more unpi ty ing man,the ga rden seeks .

Urged on b y fearless want . T he blea ting k ind

E ye the b leak heaven,and nex t the gl i s tening

earth ,

Wi th l ooks of dumb despa i r ; then. sad d is persed .

D ig for the withered herb through he apso f snow.

JAMES '

rnemsoN .


I VINTE R SONG .

S UMM ER j oys are o’er ;

Flowerets bloom no more,

W'

intry winds are sweep ing ;Through the snow -dri fts peep ing

,

Cheerfu l evergreenR are ly now i s seen .

Now no plumed throng

Charms the wood wi th song ;Ice-bound trees are gl i tter ing ;Merry snow -b i rds

,tw itter ing

,

Fondly str i ve to cheer

S cenes so co ld and drear .

I Vinter,st i l l I see

Many charms in thee ,

Love thy ch i l ly greet ing,

Snow - storms fiercely beat ing,

And the dear del ights

Of the l ong,l ong n i ghts .

From the Germ an of LUDW IG H . C . B O LTY.

Translation of CHARLE S T IM O TH Y B R O OKS .

WINTE R MORNING .

FR OM“T HE W INTE R MO R NING WALK

“T HE TA SK

,

”B K . v .

-’T IS the morn ing, and the sun with ruddy orb

Ascending fires the hori zon ; wh i le the cl ouds,That crowd away before the dr iv ing wind ,

More ardent as the d i sc emerges more,


Where, d i l i gent to catch the first fa int gleam

O f sm i l ing day , they goss iped S i de by s ide,

Come troop ing at the housewife’s we l l -known ca llThe feathered tribes domesti c . H a l f on wing

,

And ha l f on foot, they brush the fleecy flood,

Consc i ous and fearfu l of too deep a p lunge.

The sparrows peep, and qu i t the shel ter ing eaves

To sei ze the fa i r occas ion . I Vell t hey eye

The scattered gra in,and

,th iev i sh ly

“

resol ved

To escape the impending famine,often scared

As oft return,a pert vorac i ous k ind .

Clean r iddance qu i ck ly made,one on ly care

R emains to each,the search of sunny nook

,

O r shed impervi ous to the bl ast . R es igned

To sad necess i ty,the cock foregoes

H is wonted strut, and , wad ing at thei r head.Wi th wel l - cons i dered steps, seems to resentH is a l tered ga i t and statel iness retrenched .

How find the myriads, that in summer cheer

The h i l l s and va l leys w i th the i r ceaseless songs,Due sustenance, or where subs i st they now ?

E arth y iel ds them naught ; the impr i soned worm

i s safe

Beneath the frozen c l od ; a l l seeds of herbs

L ie covered c lose ; and berry -bearing thorns,That feed the thrush (whatever some Suppose ) ,Afford the smal ler m instre l s no supp ly .

The l ong protracted v igor of the year

Th ins a l l thei r numerous flocks . In ch inks and

holes

.Ten thousand seek an unmolested end,

AS inst inct prompts ; sel f -bur ied ere they die.

WI LL IAM COWPER.

THE S EAS ONS .

SLE IGH SONG .

J I NGLE,j ingle

,clear the way ,

’T i s the merry,merry slei gh !

AS i t swi ftly scuds along,

H ear the burst O f happy song ;S ee the gleam O f glances bright

,

Flash ing o’er the pathway white !

J ingle,j ingle

,past i t fl ies

,

Send ing shafts from hooded eyes,

R ogu i sh archers,I ’l l be bound

,

L i tt le heed ing whom they wound ;See them

,with capr i c i ous pranks

P l ough ing now the dri fted banks ;J ingle

,j ingle

,mid the glee

Who among them cares for me ?

J ingle,j ingle

,on they go ,

Capes and bonnets Wh i te wi th snow,

Not a s ingle robe they fold

To protect them from the cold ;J ingle

,j ingle

,mid the storm ,

Fun and frol i c keep them wa rm ;J ingle

,j ingle

,down the h i l l s ,

O’er the meadows , pas t the mi l l s ,

Now ’t i s sl ow

,and now

’t is fast ;

Winter wi l l not a lwavs las t.

J ingle,j ingle ,

c lea r the wa y !’T i s the merry , merry s le igh .

G .

1 89


OUR SKATE R BE LLE .

ALONG the frozen l ake she comes

In l ink ing crescents,l ight and fleet ;

The Ice- Impri soned Undine humsA wel come to her l i tt le feet .

I see the j aunty hat,the p lume

Swerve b i rdl i ke in the j oyous gale,

The cheeks l i t up to burning'

bloom,

The young eyes spark l ing through the vei l .

The qui ck breath parts her l augh ing l i ps,

The wh i te neck sh ines through toss ing curl s ;Her vesture gently sways and d ips

,

As on she speeds in Shel l - l i ke wh irl s .

Men stop and smi le to see her go ;They gaze

,they sm i le in p leased surpr i se ;

They ask her name ; they l ong to Show

S ome s i lent fr iendsh ip in the i r eyes .

She glances not ; she passes on ;

Her stee ly footfa l l qu i cker r ings ;She guesses not the ben i son

Wh i ch fo l lows her on no i seless w ings .

Smooth be her ways,secure her tread

A l ong the dev ious l ines of l i fe,

From‘

grace to grace success i ve led ,A noble maiden

,nobler w i fe !

ANONYMOUS


Clouds l i ke fa i ry fr igates,

P oo l s l i ke l ook ing-glass,

Moon l ight through the branches,

Vo i ces on the l awn ;S ing a song of S ummer

Ah,but S ummer

’

S gone !

S ing a song of Autumn !

Gra in in gol den Sheaves,

Woodbine’s crimson c lustersR ound the cottage eaves

,

D ays of crysta l c learnes‘

s,

Frosted fiel d s at dawn ;S ing a song of Autumn

Ah,but Autumn ’

S gone !

S ing a song O f IVinter !

North -Wind’s b i tter ch i l l,

H ome and ruddy firelight,

Kindness and good -wi l l,

Hemlock in the churches,

D ayt ime soon withdrawn ;S ing a song of Winter ,

Ah,but Winter ’s gone !

S ing a song of l ov ing !

Let the seasons go ;Hearts can make the i r gardens

Under sun or snow ;Fear no fad ing bl ossom ,

Nor the dy ing day ;S ing a song of l ov ing,

That w i l l l ast for aye !

EL I Z ABETH ROB ERTS MACDONALD.

INLAND WAT E R S :H IGHLANDS .

THE VALLE Y BR OOK.

FRE SH from the founta ins O f the woodA r i vulet of the val ley came

,

And gl ided on for manv a rood

Flushed w i th the morn ing’s ruddy flame.

The a i r was fresh and soft and swe e t ;The S l opes in Spring ’s new verdure lay ,

And wet with dew-drops at my feet

B loomed the young v i olets of May .

No sound of busy l i fe was heard

Ami d those pastures l one and st i l l ,S ave the fa int Ch i rp of early b i rd ,

O r bleat of fl ocks a l ong the h i l l .

I traced that r i vulet ’s wind ing way ;New scenes of beauty O pened round ,

Where mead s of brighter verdu re la y ,

And love l ier bl ossoms t inged the ground .

“ Ah,happy va l ley stream !

” I sa id ,

Calm gl i des thy wave amid the fl owers ,

Whose fragrance round thy path is shed

Through a l l the j oyous summe r hours .

.V— l 3 1 93

1 94 P OEMS OF NATUR E .

0,cou l d my years

,l ike th ine

,be passed

In some remote and s i lent glen,

.VVhere I cou l d dwel l and sleep at l ast,

Far from the bust l ing haunts of men ! ”

But what new echoes greet my ear ?

The v i l l age Schoo l -boy ’s merry ca l l ;And mid the v i l l age hum I hear

The murmur of the waterfa l l .

I l ooked ; the widen ing ve i l betrayed

A pool that shone l i ke burn i shed steel,

Where that bright va l ley stream was stayedTo turn the mi l ler ’s ponderous wheel .

Ah ! why Should I,I thought w i th Shame

,

S igh for a l i fe of so l i tude,

When even th i s stream wi thout a name

IS l abor ing for the common good.

No l onger let me shun mv part

Amid the busv scenes of l i fe,

But wi th a warm and generous heart

P ress onward in the gl or ious str i fe.

JOH N H OWARD B RYANT .

SONG O F THE BR O OK.

FROM T H E B RO OK :AN IDYL .

I COM E from haunts of coot and hem

I make a sudden sa l ly

And spark le out among the fern,

To bi cker down a va l ley .


And draw them al l a l ong,and flow

To j o in the brimming r i ver ;For men may come and men may go

,

But I go on forever .

I stea l by l awns and grassy p l ots

I S l i de by hazel covers ;I move the sweet forget -me-nots

That grow for happy lovers .

I S l i p,I S l ide

,I gl oom

,I gl ance

,

Among my sk imming swal l ows ;I make the netted sunbeam dance

Aga inst my sandy shal l ows ;

I murmur under moon and stars

In brambly w i l dernesses ;I l inger by my Sh ingly bars ;I l o i ter round my cresses ;

And out aga in I curve and flow

To j o in the br imm ing ri ver ;For men may come and men may go

,

But I go on forever .

ALFRED,LORD TENNYSON.

THE SHADE D WATE R .

WH EN that my mood i s sad,and in the no i se

And bust le of the crowd I feel rebuke,I turn my footsteps from i ts hol l ow j oys

And s i t me down bes ide th i s l i tt le brook ;

INLAND IVATE R S :H IGHLAND S . 1 97.

The waters have a mus i c to m ine ear

I t glads me much to hear .

It is a qu iet glen,as vou may see

,

,

S hut in from a l l intrus ion by the trees,

That Spread thei r giant branches,broad and free

,

The S i lent growth of many centuries ;And make a ha l l owed t ime for hapless moods

,

A sabbath of the woods .

Few know i ts qu iet shel ter,—none

,l i ke me

,

D O seek i t out w ith such a fond des i re

P or ing in i d lesse mood on flower and tree,

And l i sten ing as the vo i celess leaves respire,

When the far - travel l ing breeze,done wandering,

R ests here h i s weary wing.

And a l l the day, w ith fanc ies ever new,

And sweet compan i ons from t he i r boundless

store,

Of merry e l ves bespangled a ll with dew,

Fantast i c creatures of the o ld -t ime lore,

Watch ing the i r w i ld but unobtrus i ve play ,I fl ing the hours away .

A grac i ous couch— the root of an old oak

IVhose branches y iel d it moss and ca nopy

Is mine,and

,so i t be from woodman

’

s s troke

S ecure,sha l l never be res igned by me ;

I t hangs above the stream tha t id ly tlies,

Heed less of any eyes .

There,with eye somet imes shut , but upwa rd bent,

Sweet ly I muse through many a qu ie t hour,


IVhile every sense on earnest m i ss i on sent,

R eturns,thought - l aden

,back w ith bl oom and

flower ;Pursu ing

,though rebuked by those who mo i l

,

A profitable to i l .

And st i l l the waters,tr i ck l ing at my feet

,

Wind on the i r way w ith gent lest me l ody,

Y ie l d ing sweet mus i c,wh i ch the leaves repeat

,

Above them,to the gay breeze gl id ing by ,

Yet not so rudel y as to send one sound

Through the th i ck copse around:

S omet imes a brighter c l oud than a l l the rest

H angs o’er the archway Open ing through the

trees,

Break ing the spel l that,l ike a S l umber

,pressed

O n my worn Sp i r i t i ts sweet l uxuries,

And with awakened v i s i on upward bent,

I watch the firmament.

How l ike i ts sure and undi sturbed retreat

L i fe’s sanctuary at l ast,secure from storm

To the pure waters tr i ck l ing at my feet,The bend ing trees that overshade my form !

So far as sweetest th ings of earth may seem

L i ke those of wh i ch we dream .

S uch,to my m ind

,i s the ph i l osophy

The young b ird teaches,who

,with sudden fl ight,

S a i l s far into the b lue that spreads on h igh ,Unt i l I l ose h im from my stra in ing sight,Wi th a most l ofty d i scontent to fly

Upward,from earth to Sky .

WI LL IAM G I LM ORE S IMMS.


Northward,Katahd in ’s chasmed p i le

Looms through thy low,l ong

,leafy a i s le ;

E astward,Olamon ’s summi t sh ines ;

And I upon thy grassy Shore,

The dreamfu l , happy ch i l d of yore,W'

orsh ip before mine O l den shrines .

Aga in the su l try noont i de hush

I s sweet ly broken by the thrush

Whose c lear bel l r ings and d ies awayBes i de thv banks

,in coverts deep

,

Where nodd ing buds of orch i s S leep

In dusk,and dream not i t i s day .

Aga in the wi l d cow - l i ly floats

Her go lden - frei ghted,tented boats

In thy coo l coves of softened gl oom

O’ershadowed by the whi sper ing reed ,

And purple plumes of p i ckerel -weed,

And meadow - sweet in tangled bl oom .

The startled minnows dart in flocksBeneath thy gl immer ing amber rocksI f but a zephyr st i rs the brake ;

The s i lent swa l l ow swoops,a flash

O f l ight,and leaves

,wi th da inty p lash

,

A r ing of r ipp les in her wake.

Wi thout, the l and i s hot and d im ;The level fiel d s in l anguor swim

,

nTheir stubble-grasses brown as dust ;And a l l a l ong the upland lanes,Where shadeless noon oppress i ve rei gns,D ead roses wear the i r crowns of rust.

INLAND WATE R S :H IGHLAND S . 201

Wi th in,i s ne i ther bl ight nor death ;

The fierce sun wooes with ardent breath,

But cannot win thy sy lvan heart .

O n ly the ch i l d who loves thee l ong,Wi th fa i thfu l worsh ip pure and strong

,

Can know how dear and sweet thou art.

So l oved I thee in days gone by ,S O l ove I yet, though leagues may lie

Between us,and the years d iv ide ;

A breath of coolness, dawn,and dew,

A j oy forever fresh and true,Thy memory doth w ith me abide.

ANNA B O YNTON AVER I LL.

SONG O F THE R IVE R .

CLEAR and cool , clear and coo l

By laugh ing sha l l ow and dreaming poo l ;

Coo l and c lear, cool and c lear,By sh in ing Sh ingle and foam ing we i r ;

Under the crag where the ouze l s ings ,

And the i v ied wa l l where the church-be l l r ings,

Undefi led for the undefi led'

P l ay by Inc,bathe in me

, mother and ch i ld !

D ank and fou l , dank and fou l ,By the smoky town in its murky cowl ;

Fou l and dank , fou l and dank ,

By wharf,and sewer, and s l imy bank ;

D arker and darker the further I go .

Baser and baser the r i cher I grow ;

202 P OEMS OE NATUR E .

Who dare sport w ith the s in-defiled ?

S hr ink from me,turn from me

,mother and child !

S trong and free,strong and free

,

The flood -gates are open,away to the sea

Free and strong,free and strong

,

C leans ing my streams as I hurry a l ongTo the go lden sands and the leap ing bar

,

And the ta int less t i de that awa its me s

afar,

As I lose mysel f in the infin i te main,

L i ke a sou l that has s inned and i s pardoned again,

Undefiled for the undefi led °

P l ay by me,bathe in me

,mother and ch i ld !CHARLES K I NGSLEY.

AFTON WATE R .

FLOW gently,sweet Afton

,among thy green braes

F low gent ly,I ’ll sing thee a song in thy pra i se

My Mary’S asleep by thy murmuring stream

,

Flow gently,sweet Afton

,d i sturb not her dream.

Thou stock -dove whose echo resounds through the

glen,

Ye wi ld wh i st l ing b l ackb i rds in yon thorny den,Thou green - crested lapw ing

,thy screaming for

bear ;I charge you d isturb not my S l umbering fa i r.

How l ofty,sweet Afton

,thy neighboring h i l l s,

‘

Far marked w ith the courses of c lear -wind ingr i l l s !

There da i ly I wander as noon rises h igh ,My flocks and my Mary ’s sweet cot in my eye.


In sh ips that are stanch and strong

S afely as they

Speed we away,

Wak ing the woods w ith song .

Away ! Away !

Wi th the speed of a start led deerWh i le the l augh ing crewO f the swi ft canoe

S ing of the raftsmen’s cheer

Through forest and brakeO

’er rap i d and l ake

We’re sport for the sun and ra in ;Free as the ch i l d

O f the Arab wi l d,

Hardened to toi l and pa in .

Away ! Away !

Wi th the speed of a start led deerWh i le our buoyant fl ight

And the rap i d ’s m ight

Heighten our sw i ft career .

O ver the Snows

Buoyantly goes

The lumberers ’ bark canoe

L i ght ly they sweep,

IVilder each leap,

Tear ing the wh i te- caps through .

Away ! Away !

Wi th the speed of a start led deer,There ’

s a fearless crew

In each l ight canoe

To s ing of the raftsmen’s cheer .

CH ARLE S SANGSTER.

INLAND WATE R S :HIGHLAND S . 205

MY R IVE R .

R IVER ! my river in the young sunsh ine !Oh

,c lasp afresh in th ine embrace

Th i s l onging,burn ing frame of mine

,

And k i ss my breast,and k i ss my face !

So— there —Ha,ha — a lready in th ine arms !

I fee l thy l ove— I Shout— I sh i ver ;But thou outlaughest l oud a flout ing song

,proud

r iver,

And now aga in my bosom warms !

The drop lets of the go lden sunl ight gl ide

O ver and off me,Spark l ing

,as I swim

H i ther and th i ther down thy mel l ow t ide,O r 1 0 1 1 am id i ts crypts wi th outstretched

l imb ;I fl ing abroad my arms

,and l o !

Thy wanton waves curl s ly ly round me'

But ere thei r l oose cha ins have wel l bound

me,

Aga in they burst away and let me. go !

0 sun- l oved ri ver ! wherefore dost thou hum ,

Hum,hum a lway

,thy strange, deep , mvs tic

song

Unto the rocks and strands ? —for they a re

dumb,

And answer noth ing as thou Ilowes t a long .

Why S ingest so a l l hours o f n igh t and da v?

Ah,r i ver ! my best r i ver ! thou ,

I guess , a rt seek ing

S ome l and where sou l s have s ti l l the gi ft o f speak

Wi th nature in her own o ld wondrous wav !


LO ! h ighest heaven l ooms far be l ow me here ;'

I see i t in thy waters,as they ro l l

,

So beaut i fu l,so blue

,so c lear

,

’T would seem,O r i ver m ine

,to be thy very sou l !

Oh,coul d I hence d i ve down to such a Sky ,

Mi ght I but bathe my sp i r i t in that gl ory,

So far outsh in ing a l l in anc ient fa i ry story,

I would indeed have j oy to die !

What on co l d earth i s deep as thou ? I s aught ?

Love i s a s deep , l ove on ly i s as deep :Love lavisheth a l l

, yet l oseth , l acketh naught ;L ike thee

,too

,l ove can nei ther pause nor

S leep .

R o l l on,thou l ov ing r i ver

,thou ! L i ft up

Thy waves, those eves bright w ith a r i otous laugh

ing!

Thou makest me immorta l ! I am quaffing

The wine of rapture from no earth ly cup !

At l ast thou bearest me,with sooth ing tone,

Back to thy bank of rosy flowers :

Thanks,then

,and fare thee we l l ! E nj oy thy bl i ss

a l one !

And through the year’s mel od ious hours

E cho forever from thy bosom broad

A ll gl or ious ta les that sun and moon be tel l ing

And woo down to thei r soundless founta in dwel l ~

ing

The holy stars of God !

F rom the German O f E DUARD ‘

MOR IKE .


The Shorn and parcel led O xus stra ins a long

Through beds of sand and matted rushy i sles

O xus,forgett ing the br ight speed he had

In h i s h igh mounta in- crad le in Pamere,

A fo i led c i rcu i tous wanderer— t i l l at l ast

The l onged - for dash of waves i s heard,and wide

H is l uminous home of waters Opens,bright

And tranqui l,from whose floor the new-bathed

stars

E merge,and sh ine upon the Ara l Sea .

M ATTH EW ARNOLD.

THE FALL OF NIAGARA .

TH E thoughts are strange that crowd into my

bra in,

Wh i le I look upward to thee. I t woul d seem

As i f God poured thee from h i s ho l l ow hand,

And hung h i s bow upon th ine awfu l front,

And spoke in that l oud vo i ce wh i ch seemed to him

Who dwel t in Patmos for h i s S av i our ’s sakeThe sound of many waters ; and had bade

Thy flood to chron i c le the ages back,

And notch h i s centuries in the eterna l rocks .

D eep ca l leth unto deep . And what are we,That hear the quest i on of that m i ce subl ime ?

0,what are a l l the notes that ever rung

F rom war ’s va in trumpet,by thy thunder ing s ide?

Yea, what i s all the r i ot man can make

In h i s short l i fe,to thy unceas ing roar ?

And yet, bol d babbler, what art thou to H im

INLAND WATE R S :HIGHLAND S . 209,

ho drowned a worl d,and heaped the waters fan

bove i ts l oft iest mounta ins — a l i ght wave,

hat breaks, and wh ispers of i ts Maker’s might.JOH N GARD INER CALK IN S BRA I NARD.

TO SE NE CA LAKE .

ON thy fa i r bosom ,s i l ver lake

,

The wi l d swan spreads h i s snowy sa i l

And round h i s breast the r ipples break,

As down he bears before the ga le .

On thy fa i r bosom ,waveless stream

,

The d ipp ing padd le echoes far,

And flashes in the moon l igh t gleam,

And bright reflects the polar star.

The waves a l ong thy pebbly shore

As blows the north -wind,heave thei r foam,

And cur l around the dash ing oar,

AS l ate the boatman h ies h im home.

How sweet,at set O f sun, to v iew

Thy go lden mi rror spread ing wide,And see the mist of mant l ing blue

Float round the d i stant mounta in'

s s ide .

'

At midn igh t hour, as sh ines the moon,

A Sheet of s i l ver spreads be l ow,

'

And swi ft she cuts, a t h ighes t noon,

L ight c louds,l i ke wreaths of purest snow.

V—1 4

2 1 0 POEMS OE NATUR E .

On thy fa i r bosom,s i l ver lake

,

0, I cou l d ever sweep the oar

,

When early b i rds at morn ing wake,

And even ing tel l s us to i l i s o’er !

JAM ES GATES P ERC IVAL.

THE BUGLE .

FROM TH E PR I NCES S .

TH E sp lendor fa l l s on cast le wal l s

And snowy summ its O ld in story

The l ong l ight shakes across the l akes,

And the wi l d cataract leaps in glory .

Blow,bugle

,bl ow

,set the wi ld echoes flying

,

Blow,bugle ; answer, echoes, dy ing, dying, dy ing.

O hark ! O hear ! how th in and c lear,

And th inner,c learer

,farther go ing !

0 sweet and far,from c l i ff and scar

,

The horns of E lfland fa int ly bl ow ing !

Blow,let us hear the purp le glens reply ing

Blow,bugle ; answer, echoes, dy ing, dying, dy ing

0 l ove,they d ie in yon r i ch Sky ,

They fa int on h i l l or fiel d or r i ver ;Our echoes ro l l from sou l to soul

,

And grow forever and forever.

Blow,bugle

,bl ow

,set the wi l d echoes flying

,

And answer, echoes, answer, dy ing, dying, dy ingALFRED

,LORD TENNYSON .

POEMS OF NATUR E .

Th i s qu iet sa i l i s as a no i se less w ing

To waft me from d i stract i on ; once I l ovedT orn ocean’s roar

,but thy soft murmur ing

S ounds sweet as i f a S i ster ’s vo i ce reproved,That I w i th stern del i ghts Shoul d e

’er have been

so moved .

I t i s the hush of n ight,and al l between

Thy margin and the mounta ins , dusk , yet c lear,Mel l owed and mingl ing

, yet di st inct ly seen,S ave darkened Jura

,Whose capt he ights appear

P rec ip i tously steep ; and draw ing near,

There breathes a l i v ing fragrance from the

Shore,

O f flowers yet fresh w ith ch i l dhood ; on the ear

D rops the l ight drip of the suspended oar,

O r ch irps the grasshopper one good -n i ght carol

more

He i s an even ing revel ler,who makes

H is l i fe an infancy,and s ings h i s fi l l ;

At interva l s,some bi rd from out the brakes

S tarts into vo i ce a moment,then i s st i l l .

There seems a float ing Wh i sper on the h i l l

But that i s fancy ; for the starl i ght dews

All s i lent ly thei r tears of l ove inst i l ,Weep ing themse l ves away

,t i l l they infuse

Deep into Nature’s breast the sp i r i t of her hues.

LORD BYRON .

INLAND IVATE R S : HIGHLAND S . 21 3

THE S ILE NCE O F THE H ILL S .

H E wind y forest,rous ing from i ts S leep

es i ts heart in hoarse T i tan i c roar ;ocean bel l ows from i ts rocky ShO I'Q

'

The cataract,that haunts the rugged steep

Makes m ighty mus i c in i ts head l ong leap ;The c l ouds have vo i ces

,and the r i vers pour

Thei r floods in thunder down to ocean’s floor ;The h i l l s a l one myster i ous s i lence keep .

They cannot rend the anc ient cha in that bars

Thei r i ron l i ps,nor answer back the sea

That ca l l s to them far off in va in ; the stars

They cannot ha i l,nor thei r w i l d brooks . Ah me !

I Vhat cr ies from out the i r stony hearts wi l l break,

In God ’s great day,when a l l that S leep shal l wake !WI LL IAM P RE SCOTT FOSTER.

STORM IN THE ALPS .

FROM CH I LDE H ARO LD,CANTO I I I .

TH E Sky i s changed —and such a change ! 0

n i ght,

And storm,and darkness

, ye are wondrousstrong

Yet l ovely In your strength,as i s the l i ght

O f a dark eye in woman ! Far a long

From peak to peak , the ratt l ing crags amongLeaps the l i ve thunder ! Not from one l one

c l oud,

B ut every mounta in now hath found a tongue,


And Jura answers,through her misty Shroud

,

Back to the j oyous A l ps,who ca l l to her a loud !

And th i s i s in the n ight —most gl or i ous n ight !

Thou wert not sent for s lumber ! let me be

A Sharer in thy fierce and far del i ght,

A port ion of the tempest and O f thee !

How the l i t lake Sh ines,a phosphor i c sea

,

And the b ig ra in comes danc ing to:

the earth !

And now aga in ’t i s b l ack

,—and now

,the glee

O f the l oud h i l l s shakes wi th its mounta in

mirth,

As i f they d id rejo i ce o’er a young earthquake’s

b i rth .

LORD B YRON .

D OVE R CLIFF .

FROM K I NG LEAR,

” ACT Iv . SC . 6.

COME on,S ir ; here

’s the pl ace :stand st i l l !

Howfearfu lAnd d izzy ’

t i s,to cast one’s eyes so l ow !

The crows and choughs that w ing the midway a i r

Show scarce so gross as beet les :hal f -way down

Hangs one that gathers samph ire,— dreadfu l

trade !

Meth inks he seems no b igger than h i s head

The fishermen,that walk . upon the beach ,

Appear l ike mi ce ; and yon ta l l anchoring barkD im in i shed to her cock ; her cock , a buoy

A lmost too sma l l for S ight :the murmuring surge,That on the unnumbered i d le pebbles chafes,


Bacchus’s daughters, ye the pr ide

O f go l den Tmolus’s fab led s ide ;

Wh i le your heavy cymbal s r ing,S t i l l your ‘E voe ! E voe ! ’ s ing ! ”

E voe ! the E v ian god rej o i ces

In Phrygi an tones and Phrygian vo i ces,

Wh en the soft ho ly p ipe i s breath ing sweet,

In notes harmon i ous to her feet,

Who to the mounta in,to the mounta in

speeds ;L i ke some young co l t that by i ts mother

feeds,

Gladsome with many a fr i sk ing bound,Bacchana l goes forth and treads the echo ing

ground .

From the G reek of EUR I P IDES .

Translation of H . H . M I LM AN .

AN ALPINE D E SCE NT .

MY mule refreshed,h i s bel l s

J ingled once more,the S i gna l to depart

,

And we set out in the gray l ight of dawn,

D escending rap id ly,—by waterfa l l s

F ast frozen,and among huge bl ocks of ice

That in thei r l ong career had stopt mi dway ;At length , unchecked, unb idden,

he stood st i l l,

And a l l h i s be l l s were muffled . Then my guide,Lowering h i s vo i ce

,addressed me Through th is

chasm

On, and say noth ing,— for a word

,a breath ,

S t i rring the a i r,may loosen and br ing down

INLAND WATE R S :H IGHLAND S . 2 1 7

A winter’s snow,— enough to overwhelm

The horse and foot that,n ight and day

,defi led

A l ong th i s path to conquer at Marengo .

SAM UEL ROGERS .

FR OM MONT BLANC .

MONT BLANC yet gleams on h igh — the power i s

there,

The st i l l and so lemn power of many S igh ts,

And many Sounds,and much of l i fe and dea th .

In the ca lm darkness of the moonless n ights,

In the l one gl are of day, the snows descend

Upon that Mounta in ; none beholds them there

Nor when the flakes burn in the s ink ing sun,

O r the star -beams dart thro ’ them z—Winds con

tend

S i lent ly there,and heap the snow wi th breath

R ap i d and strong, but s i lently ! l ts home

The vo i celess l ightn ing in these sol i tudes

Keeps innocent ly,and l i ke vapor broods

O ver the snow. The secret streng th o f th ings

Wh i ch governs thought , and to the in liuite dome

O f heaven i s as a law,inhab i ts thee !

And what were thou , and ea rth ,and s ta rs , and

sea,

I f to the human mind ’s imaginings

S i lence and sol i tude were

P ERCY nvss uE S H E LLEY .

T R E E S :F L OWE R S :P LANT S .

THE PR IME VAL FOR E ST .

FROM EVANGEL I NE,

I NTRODUCT ION .

TH I S i s the forest primeval The murmuring

p ines and the hemlocks,

Bearded wi th moss,and in garments green

,in

d i st inct in the twi l ight,

S tand l ike D rui ds of eld,with voi ces sad and

prophet i c,

S tand l i ke harpers hoar,with beards that rest on

the i r bosoms .

Loud from i ts rocky caverns,the deep -vo i ced

neighboring ocean

S peaks,and in accents d i sconso late answers the

wa i l O f the forest .

Th i s i s the forest pr imeval ; but where are the

hearts that beneath i t

Leaped l ike the roe,when he hears in the woodl and

the vo i ce of the huntsman ?



Where, wander ing volat i le from k ind to k indHe wooed the severa l trees to give h im one.

Fi rst he besought the ash ; the vo i ce she lent

F i tfu l ly w i th a free and l ast ing change

Flung here and there i ts sad uncerta int ies

The aspen next ; a fluttered fr i vol ous tw itter

Was her so le tr ibute :from the wi l l ow came,

S O l ong as da inty summer dressed her out,A wh i sper ing sweetness

,but her winter note

Was h i ss ing,dry

,and ready : l ast ly the p ine

D id he so l i c i t,and from her he drew

A vo i ce so constant,soft

,and lowlv deep,

That there he rested,we l com ing In her

A mi l d memoria l of the ocean- cave

Where he was born .

S IR H ENRY TAYLOR.

THE BRAVE OLD OAK.

A SONG to the oak,the brave O ld oak

,

Who hath ru led in the greenwood l ong ;Here ’

S heal th and renown to h i s broad green

crown,

And h i s fi fty arms so strong .

There ’S fear in h i s frown when the sun goes down

,

And the fire in the west fades out ;And he showeth h i s might on a wi ld midni ght

,

When the storm through h i s branches Shout

Then here ’3 to the oak

,the brave old oak

,

Who stands in his pride a lone;And sti ll flourish he, a ha le green tree,When a hundred years are gone !

TR E E S : E LO I/VE R S : PLANTS . 22 1

n the days of o ld,when the Spring wi th cold

Had br ightened h i s branches gray,

brough the grass at h i s feet crept maidens sweet,

To gather the dew of May .

nd on that day to the rebeck gayThey fro l i cked wi th l ovesome swa ins ;hey are gone

,they are dead

,in the churchyard

l a i d,

But the tree i t st i l l remains .

Then here ’8,etc.

He saw the rare t imes when the Chr istmas ch imes

Were a merry sound to hear,When the Squ ire

’s wide hal l and the cottage smal l

Were fi l led wi th good E ngl i sh cheer.

Now gol d bath the sway we a ll obey ,And a ruth less k ing is he ;

But he never Sha l l send our anc ient friend

To be tossed on the stormy sea .

Then here’3 to the oak

,the brave old oak

,

Who stands in his p ride a lone:

And sti ll flourish he, a ha lo green tree ,

When a hundred yea rs are your !

H ENRY F O'

rH ERG ILL c uonLEY.

TH E HOLLY—T R E E .

O READER ! has t thou eve r s tood to see

The hol ly - tree ?

The eye tha t contemplates i t we l l perce ives

l ts gl ossy leaves


O rdered by an intel l i gence so w i se

As might confound the athe i st’s soph i str ies .

Bel ow,a c i rc l ing fence

,i ts leaves are seen

Wr ink led and keen ;No graz ing catt le

,through the i r pr i ck ly round

Can reach to wound ;But as they grow where noth ing i s to fear

,

Smooth and unarmed the point less“

leaves appear.

I l ove to v iew these th ings w ith cur ious eyes,

And mora l i ze ;And in th i s wi sdom of the hol ly - tree

Can emblems see

VVherewith,perchance

,to make a p leasant rhyme,

O ne wh i ch may profit in the after -t ime.

T hus,though abroad

,perchance

,I might appear

H arsh and austere ;To those who on my le i sure woul d intrude

,

R eserved and rude ;Gent le at home amid my fr iends I ’

d be,

L i ke the h igh leaves upon the hol ly - tree.

And Should mv vouth— as youth i s apt, I knowS ome harshness Show

A ll va in asper i ties I,day by day

Woul d wear awayT i l l the smooth temper of my age Shoul d be

L ike the h igh leaves upon the hol ly - tree.

And as,when a l l the summer trees are seen

S O bright and green,

224 POEMS OE NATURE .

Only among the . crowd,and under roofs

That our fra i l hands have ra i sed ? Let

least,

Here,in the shadow of th i s aged wood

,

O ffer one hymn,— thr i ce happy i f i t find

Acceptance in h i s ear.

Father,thy hand

H ath reared these venerable co l umns,thou

D idst weave th i s verdant roof . T hou d i dst l ookdown

Upon the naked earth,and forthwi th rose

All these fa i r ranks of trees . T hey in thy sun

Budded,and shook thei r green leaves in thy

breeze,

And Shot towards heaven . The century - l i v ing

crow,

Whose b i rth was in thei r tops, grew ol d and d iedAmong thei r branches

,t i l l at l ast they stood

,

As now they stand,massy and ta l l and dark,

Fi t shr ine for humble worsh ipper to ho l d

Commun i on with h i s Maker . These d im vaults,

These wind ing a i s les,of human pomp or pr ide

R eport not . No fantast i c carv ings Show

The boast O f our va in race to change theform

O f thy fa i r works . But thou art here,—thou

fi ll’st

The so l i tude. Thou art in the soft w indsThat run a l ong the summit of these trees

In musi c ; thou art in the cooler breath

That from the inmost darkness of the placeComes

,scarcely fel t ; the barky trunks, the ground,

The fresh moi st ground, are al l inst inct w i th thee.

TR E E S : FLO IVE R S : PLANTS . 225

Here i s cont inua l worsh ip —nature,here

In the tranqu i l l i ty that thou dost l ove,

E nj oys thy presence . Noi selessly around,

From perch to perch,the sol i tary b i rd

P asses ; and yon c lear spring, that, midst its herbs ,Wel l s soft ly forth and wandering steeps the roots

O f ha l f the mighty forest,tel l s no ta le

O f a l l the good i t does . Thou hast not left

Thysel f w ithout a witness,in these shades

,

O f thy perfect i ons . Grandeur,strength

,and grace

Are here to Speak of thee. Th i s migh ty oak,

By whose immovable stem I stand and seem

A lmost ann ih i l ated,— not a prince,

In all that proud ol d worl d beyond the deep ,E

’er wore h i s crown as l oft i ly as he

Wears the green corona l of leaves wi th wh i ch

Thy hand has graced h im . Nest led at his root

I s beauty,such as b looms not in the glare

O f the broad sun . That del i cate forest fl ower

Wi th scented breath , and l ook so l i ke a smi le ,

Seems,as i t i ssues from the Shape les s mould .

An emanat ion of the indwel l ing L i fe .

A v i s ib le token of the uphold ing Love .

That are the soul of th i s wide un i ve rse .

My heart i s awed wi th in me when I th ink

O f the great m i racle tha t s ti l l goes on .

In Si lence,round me

,— the perpe tua l work

O f thy creat i on,fin i shed , y e t renewed

Forever . NVritten on thy works I read

Thi lesson of thy own etern i ty .

Lo ! all grow ol d and d ie ; but see aga in,

How on the fa l ter ing footsteps o f dera v

V— l O


Youth presses,— ever gay and beaut i fu l youth

In a l l i ts beaut ifu l forms . T hese l ofty trees

IVave not less proudly that thei r ancestors

Moulder beneath them . 0,there i s not l ost

O ne of E arth ’s charms ! upon her bosom yet,

After the fl ight of unto l d centur ies,

The freshness of her far beginn ing l ies,

And yet Sha l l l ie. L i fe mocks the i d le hateOf h i s arch -enemy D eath

,-

yea, seats h imse l f

Upon the tyrant’s throne,the sepul chre

,

And of the tr iumphs O f h i s ghast ly foe

Makes h i s own nouri shment . For he came forth

From th ine own bosom and shal l have no end .

T here have been ho ly men who h i d themsel ves

D eep in the woody w i lderness,and gave

T hei r l i ves to thought and prayer,t i l l they out

l i ved

The generat i on born with them,nor seemed

Less aged than the hoary trees and rocksAround them —and there have been ho ly men

Who deemed i t were not wel l to pass l i fe thus .

But let me O ften to these so l i tudes

R et i re,and in thy presence reassure

My feeb le v i rtue. Here i ts enemies,

The passi ons,at thy p la i er footsteps shrink

And tremble,and are st i l l . O God ! when thou

D ost scare the worl d w ith tempests , set on fire

The heavens w ith fa l l ing thunderbo l ts, or fi l l ,Wi th a l l the waters of the firmament

,

The swi ft dark wh i rlwind that uproots the woodsAnd drowns the v i l lages ; when,

at thy ca l l ,Upr i ses the great deep , and throws h imsel f


The marb le minarets that begem

Cai ro ’s c i tadel -diadem

Are not so l ight as h i s s lender stem .

He l i fts h i s leaves in the sunbeam ’s gl ance,

As the A lmehs l i ft thei r arms i n dance

A sl umberous moti on,a pass ionate S ign

,

That works in the cel l s of the bl ood l ike wine.

Ful l of passi on and sorrow i s he,

D reaming where the be l oved may be ;

And when the warm south -winds ar i se,

He breathes h i s l onging in ferv i d s i ghs,

Qui cken ing odors,k i sses of balm

,

That drop in the l ap of h i s chosen palm .

The sun mav flame,and the sands mav st i r,

But the breath of h i s pass i on reaches her.

0 tree of l ove,by that l ove of th ine

,

Teach me how I sha l l soften mine !

G i ve me the secret of the sun,

VVhereby the wooed i s ever won !

I f I were a k ing, 0 stately tree

,

A l ikeness,glor i ous as m ight be,

In the court of my pal ace I ’d bui l d for thee ;

Wi th a shaft of s i l ver, burn i shed bright,And leaves of bery l and malach i te ;

TR E E S :FLOTVE R S :PLANTS .229

Wi th sp ikes of golden bloom ab laze,

And fru its of topaz and chrysoprase ;

And there the poets, in thy pra i se,

S houl d n ight and morn ing frame new lays,

New measures, sung to tunes d ivine ;

But none, O palm,shou ld equa l m ine !

THE PALM—TR E E .

Is i t the palm ,the cocoa -palm ,

O n the Ind i an Sea , by the i s les of balm ?

O r i s i t a sh ip in thebreezeless ca lm

A sh ip whose keel i s of palm beneath ,

Whose r ibs of palm have a pa lm -bark sheath

And a rudder of pa lm i t steereth wi th.

What are i ts j ars , so smoothand fine ,

But ho l lowed nuts , fi lle

And the cabbage thatr ipe


Who smokes h i s nargi leh , coo l and ca lm ?

The master,whose cunn ing and sk i l l could charm

Cargo and sh ip from the bounteous pa lm .

In the cab in he s i ts on a pa lm -mat soft ,From a beaker of pa lm h i s drink i s quaffed

,

And a palm thatch sh iel ds from the sun al oft !

H is dress i s woven of palmy strands,And he holds a pa lm - leaf scrol l in h i s hands

,

T raced wi th the Prophet’

s w i se commands !

The turban fo l ded about h i s headWas daint i ly wrought of the pa lm - leaf bra id

,_

And the fan that cool s h im of pa lm was made.

O f threads of pa lm was the carpet spun

\Vhereon he kneel s when the day i s done,And the foreheads of I sl am are bowed as one !

To h im the palm i s a g ift d i vine,

Wherein a l l uses of man combine,H ouse and ra iment and food and wine !

And,in the hour of h i s great release,

H is need of the pa lm sha l l on ly cease

Wi th the shroud wherein he l ieth in peace.

A l l ah il A l l ah ! ” he s ings h i s psa lm

O n the Ind ian S ea,by the i s les of balm ;

T hanks to A l lah , who gives the pa lm !”

JOH N GREENLEAF WH ITT IER .


THE P LANT ING OF THE APPLE TRE E .

COM E,let us p lant the app le- tree .

Cleave the tough greensward w ith the spade ;Wi de let i ts ho l low bed be made ;There gentlv lav the roots, and there

S i ft the dark mou l d w i th k indly care,

And press i t o’er them tenderl y

,

As round the s leep ing infant’

s feet

We soft ly fol d the cradle- sheet ;S o plant we the apple - tree.

What p lant we in th i s app le- tree ?

Buds,wh i ch the breath of summer day s

S ha l l lengthen into leafy sprays ;Boughs where the thrush wi th cr imson breast

Sha l l haunt,and s ing

,and h i de her nest ;

Vt’e p lant,upon the sunny lea

,

A shadow for the noont i de hour,

A shel ter from the summer shower,

“’hen we p lant the

'

app le-tree.

“'

hat p lant we in th i s app le- tree

Sweets for a hundred fl owery spr ings

To l oad the May-W ind’s rest less w ings

,

When, from the orchard row,he pours

Its fragrance th rough our open doors ;A world of bl ossoms for the bee

,

F l owers for the s i ck gi rl ’s s i lent room,

For the glad infant sprigs of b l oom,

IVe pl ant w ith the apple

-tree.

TR E E S :FLO I«VE R S :PLANTS . 233

What pl ant we in th i s app le - tree !Fru i ts that sha l l swel l in sunny June

,

And redden in the August noon,

And drop,when gent le a i rs come by

,

That fan the blue September sky ,Wh i le ch i l dren come

,with cr ies of glee

,

And seek them where the fragrant grass

Betrays thei r bed to those who pass,

At the foot of the apple - tree

And when,above th i s apple- tree

,

The winter stars are qu ivering br ight,

And winds go howl ing through the n igh t ,

G i r l s,whose young eyes o

’erfiow with m irth,

Sha l l peel i ts fru i t by cottage hearth,And guests in prouder homes sha l l see

,

Heaped w ith the grape of C intra ’s vine

And golden orange of the L ine

The fru i t of the apple -tree .

The fru i tage of th i s apple - tree

.Winds and our flag of s tr i pe and sta r

S ha l l bear to coasts tha t lie a fa r ,

Where men sha l l wonder a t the v iew.

And ask in what fa i r groves the y grew ;

And soj ourners beyond the se a

S ha l l th ink of Ch i l dhood ’s ca re less dav

And l ong, l ong hours of summer play ,

In the shade of the apple - tree .

E ach year sha l l g ive th i s apple -tree

A broader flush o f rosea te b loom ,

A deeper maze of verdurous gloom ,

And l oosen, when the frost-c louds l ower,


The cr i sp brown leaves in th i cker shower,

The years shal l come and pass,but we

Shal l hear no l onger,where we lie

,

The summer ’s songs,the autumn’s s igh

,

In the boughs of the app le - tree.

And t ime shal l waste th i s apple- tree.

0,when i ts aged branches throw

Th in shadows on the ground below,

S ha l l fraud and force and i ron wi l l

O ppress the weak and hel p less st i l l ?

What sha l l the tasks of mercy be,

Ami d the to i l s, the str i fes, the tears

O f those who l i ve when length of years

I s wast ing th i s app le- tree ?

“,Who pl anted th i s o l d apple-tree ?

The ch i l dren of that d i stant day

Thus to some aged man shal l say ;And

,gaz ing on i ts mossy stem

,

The gray -ha i red man sha l l answer them

A poet of the l and was he,

Born in the rude but good ol d t imes ;’T i s sa i d he made some qua int o l d rhymes

On p lant ing the apple- tree.

”

W I LL IAM CU LLEN B RYANT.

AMONG THE R E DWO OD S .

FAREWELL to such a world ! Too l ong I press

The crowded pavement wi th unwi l l ing feet.

P i ty makes pri de,and hate breeds hatefulness,

And both a re po i sons . In the forest sweet


The heart feel s not in every t ime and moodWhat i s around i t . D ul l as any stone

I l ay ; then, l ike a darken ing dream ,the wood

Grew Karnac’s temple,where I breathed a l one

In the awed a i r strange incense,and uprose

D im,monstrous co l umns in the i r dread repose.

The mind not a lway s sees ; but i f there sh ine

A b i t of fern- l ace bend ing over moss

A s i lky gl int that r i des a sp ider- l ine,

O n a trefo i l two shadow spears that cross,

Three grasses that toss up thei r nodd ing heads,

Wi th Spring and curve l ike c l ustered fountain

threads,

S udden ly,through s i de windows of the eye,

D eep sol i tudes,where never soul s have met ;

Vast spaces,forest corr i dors that lie

In a myster i ous world,unpeop led yet .

Because the outward eye was el sewhere caught,The awfu lness and wonder come unsought.

If death be but reso l v ing back aga inInto the worl d ’s deep soul

,th i s i s a k ind

O f quiet , happy death , untouched by pa in

O r sharp rel uctance. For I fee l my mindIs interfused w i th a l l I hear and see ;

As much a part of A ll as cl oud or tree.

L i sten ! A deep and solemn wind on h igh ;The shafts of sh in ing dust sh i ft to and fro ;

TRE E S :FLOWE R S :PLANTS . 237

he co l umned trees sway impercept ibly,And creak as mighty masts when trade-winds

blow .

he c loudy sa i l s are set ; the earth sh ip swings

long the sea of space to grander th ings .

EDWARD ROWLAND S ILL.

THE VO ICE OF THE GRAS S .

HERE I come creep ing, creep ing everywhere ;

By the dusty roads ide,

O n the sunny h i l l s ide,Close by the no i sy brook ,In every shady nook ,

I come creep ing, creep ing everywhere.

Here I come creep ing, sm i l ing everywhere ;

All round the Open door ,

Where s i t the aged poor ;Here where the ch i ldren play ,

In the bright and merry May ,

I come creep ing, creep ing everywhere .

Here I come creep ing , creeping everywhere ;

In the no isy c i ty street

My pleasant face you’ l l meet ,

Cheer ing the s i ck at heart

T o i l ing h i s busy part,

S i lent ly creep ing, creep ing everywhere.

Here I come creep ing ,creeping everywhere ;

You cannot see me coming .

Nor hear my low sweet humming


For in the starry n i ght,

And the gl ad morn ing l ight,

I come quiet ly creep ing everywhere.

Here I come creep ing , creep ing everywhere ;More wel come than the flowers

In summer ’s p leasant hours ;The gent le cow i s glad

,

And the merry b i rd not sad,

To see me creep ing,creep ing everywhere.

Here I come creep ing,creep ing everywhere ;

When you ’re numbered w ith the dead

In your st i l l and narrow bed,

In the happy spring I ’l l come

And deck your s i lent home,

Creep ing,s i lent ly creep ing everywhere.

Here I come creep ing,creep ing everywhere ;

My humb le song of pra i se

Most j oyful ly I ra i se

To H im at whose command

I beaut i fy the l and,

Creep ing,s i lent ly creep ing everywhere.

SARAH ROBERTS .

FLOWE R S .

S P AKE ful l wel l , in l anguage qua int and o lden

O ne who dwel leth by the cast led R h ine,When he ca l led the flowers

,so b l ue and golden,

S tars,that in earth ’s firmament do Sh ine.


E verywhere about uS are they gl ow ing

S ome,l i ke stars

, to tel l us S pring i s born

O thers,thei r b lue eyes w i th tears o’

erfiowing,S tand

,l ike R uth

,amid the go lden corn ;

Not a lone in S pr ing’s armor ia l bearing,

And in S ummer’s green emb lazoned fiel d,

But in arms of brave o ld Autumn’s wear ing,

In the centre of h i s brazen sh iel d “

,

Not a l one in meadows and green a l leys,

On the mounta in - top,and by the br ink

O f sequestered pool s in woodland val leys,

Where the S l aves of Nature stoop to drink ;

Not a l one in her vast dome of gl ory ,Not on graves of b i rd and beast a l one

But in ol d cathedral s,h igh and hoary

,

O n the tombs of heroes, carved in stone ;

In the cottage of the rudest peasant ;In ancestra l homes

,whose crumbl ing towers

S peak ing of the Past unto the Present,Tel l uS of the anc ient Games of Fl owers .

In a l l p l aces,then

,and in a l l seasons,

Flowers expand the i r l ight and soul - l ike wings,Teach ing us, by most persuas i ve reasons

How ak in they are to human th ings .

And with ch i l d l ike, credul ous afiection,

We behol d thei r tender buds expand

E mblems of our own great resurrect i on,

E mblems of the br ight and better l and .


TR E E S :FLOWE R S :PLANTS . 241

THE USE OF FLOWE R S .

GOD might have bade the earth bring

E nough for great and sma l l,

The oak - tree and the cedar - tree

Wi thout a flower at a l l .

We might have had enough,enough

For every want of ours,

For l uxury,med i c ine

,and to i l

And yet have had no flowers .

Then wherefore,wherefore were they

A ll dyed w i th ra inbow l ight

All fash i oned w ith supremest grace,Upspringing day and n ight

Springing in va l leys green and l ow

And on the. mounta ins h igh ,And in the s i lent wi l derness

Where no man passes by 9

O ur outward l i fe requ i res them not,

Then wherefore had they bi rth

.To min i ster del i ght to man,

To beaut i fy the earth ;To comfort man,

— to wh isper hO pe,

Whene’er h i s fa i th is d im ,

For who so careth for the fl owersWi l l care much more for h im !

MARY uow '

r.

V—1 6


HYMN TO THE FLOWE R S .

DAY - STARS ! that ope your frown less eyes

tw ink leFrom rainbow galax ies of earth ’s creat i on

,

And dew-drops on her l onely a l tars sprink leAS a l i bat i on .

Ye mat in worsh ippers ! who bend ing lowly

Before the upri sen sun,God ’s l i d less eye,

T hrow from your cha l i ces a sweet and holy

Incense on h igh .

Ye br ight mosa i cs ! that w i th stor ied beauty

The floor of Nature’s temple tessel l ate,What numerous emblems of instruct i ve duty

Your forms create !

’Neath cl o i stered boughs,each flora l bel l tha

swingeth

And tol l s i ts perfume on the passing

Makes S abbath in the fiel ds,and

-

ever

A ca l l to prayer .

Not to the domes where crumbl ing arch and

umn

Attest the feebleness of morta l hand,But to that fane

,most catho l i c and so lemn,

Wh i ch God hath p lanned ;

To that cathedra l , boundless as our wonder,Whose quench less l amps the sun and moo

surply


Not use less are ye, fl owers ! though made for

p leasure

Bloom ing o’er fiel d and wave

,by day and n i ght .

From every source your sanct i on bi ds me treasure

Harmless del ight .

E phemera l sages ! what instructors hoary

For such a world of thought cou l d furn i sh

scope ?

E ach fad ing calyx a memento mori,

Yet fount of hope.

P osthumous gl ories ! ange l - l ike col lect i on !Upra i sed from seed or bulb interred in earth

,

Ye are to me a type of resurrect ion

And second b i rth .

“'

ere I in church less sol i tudes remaining,Far from a l l vo i ce of teachers and d ivines .

My sou l woul d find, in flowers of God ’s orda inlng,Priests

,sermons

,shrines !

H ORACE SM ITH .

THE L IFE OF FLO IVE R S .

WH EN hath wind or ra inBorne hard upon weak p lant that wanted meAnd I (however they might b luster round )I Valkt ofl ? ’

T were most ungratefu l ; for sweet

scents

Are the sw i ft veh i c les of st i l l sweeter thoughts,And nurse and p i l l ow the dul l memory

That woul d let drop w ithout them her best stores .


They br ing me ta les of youth and tones of l ove,

And’t i s and ever was my w i sh and way

To let a l l flowers'

live freely,and al l die

(Whene’er thei r Gen i us b ids thei r soul s depart )

Among the i r k indred in thei r nat i ve place.

I never p l uck the rose ; the V i o let’s head

Hath shaken with my breath upon i ts bank

And not reproacht me ; the ever - sacred cup

O f the pure l i ly hath between my hands

Fel t safe,unso i led

,nor l ost one gra in of gold .

WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.

THE E AR LY PR IMROS E .

MI LD offspring of a dark and sul len s i re,

Whose modest form ,so del i cately fine

,

Was nursed in wh i rl ing storms

And crad led in the winds ;

T hee,when young S pring fi rst quest ioned “ ln

ter’s sway ,And dared the sturdy blusterer to the tight ,

Thee on th i s bank he th rew

To mark his vi ctory .

In th i s l ow va le the prom i se of the vea r.

Serene,thou openes t to the. n i pping ga le .

Unnot iced and a lone ,

Thy tender elegance .

So v i rtue b looms , brough t fo rth am id the o nus

O f ch i l l advers i t y ; in some lo ne wa lk

Of l i fe she rea rs he r head ,

O bscure and unobse rved


Wh i le every bleach ing breeze that on her blows

.Chastens her spot less pur i ty of breast,And hardens her to bear

Serene the i l l s of l i fe.

H ENRY K IRKE WH ITE .

TO DAFFOD ILS .

FAIRE datfadills, we weep to see

You haste away so soone ;As yet the early - r i s ing sun

Has not atta ined h i s noone.

S tay,stay

,

Unt i l the hasten ing day

Has run

But to the even- song ;And hav ing prayed together we

Wi l l goe with you al ong .

We have Short t ime to stay as you,We have as short a spr ing ;

AS qui ck a growth,to meet decay,

AS you or anyth ing .

IVe die,

As y our hours doe, and dr ieAway

,

L ike to the summer ’s ra ine,O r as the pearles of morn ing

’s dew,

Ne’er to be found againe.

ROB ERT H ERR ICK.


TO THE DANDE LION .

D EAR common flower,that grow

’st bes ide the

W3 33

F ringing the dusty road wi th harmless go l d !

First p ledge of b l i thesome May ,

Wh i ch ch i ldren p luck, and , ful l of pr i de, uphol dH i gh -hearted buccaneers

,o’erjoyed

‘

that they

An E l dorado in the grass have found,

Wh i ch not the r i ch earth ’s ample round

May match in wea l th — thou art more dear tome

Than a l l the prouder summer -bl ooms may be.

Gold such as th ine ne’er drew the S pan i sh prow

T hrough the pr imeva l hush of Ind ian seas ;Nor wrink led the lean brow

O f age to rob the l over’s heart of ease.

’T i s the spr ing’s l argess,wh i ch she scatters now

To r i ch and poor a l i ke,with l av i sh hand

Though most hearts never understand

To take i t at God ’s va lue, but pass by

The oflered weal th w ith unrewarded eye.

Thou art my trop i cs and mine I ta ly ;To l ook at thee un l ocks a warmer cl ime

°

The eyes thou g ivest me

Are in the heart , and heed not space or t ime

Not in mid June the golden - cu irassed bee

Feel s a more summer - l i ke warm rav i shment

In the whi te l i ly ’s breezy tent,

H is conquered Sybari s . than I , when firstFrom . the dark green thv y el l ow c i rc les burst.

TRE E S : FLOWE R S :PLANTS . 249

Then th ink I of deep Shadows on the grass ;O f meadows where in sun the catt le graze

,

Wh ere,as the breezes pass

,

The gleam ing rushes lean a thousand way'

s‘

O f leaves that sl umber in a cl oudy mass,

O r wh i ten in the wind ; of waters blue,That from the d i stance spark le through

S ome woodland gap ; and of a sky above ,

Where one whi te c loud l ike a stray lamb doth

My Ch i l dhood ’s earl iest thoughts are l inked

wi th thee ;The s ight of thee cal ls

‘back the rob in

’s song,

Who, from the dark old tree

Bes ide the door, sang clearly a ll day l ong ;

And I,secure in ch i ld i sh piet y ,

L i stened as i f I heard an angel s ing

IVith news from heaven,wh i ch he d id b ring

Fresh every day to my unta inted ea rs ,

W' hen b i rds and flowers and l were happy

peers .

How l i ke a prod iga l doth na ture seem

“7hen thou , for a ll th y gold ,so commo n a rt

'

Thou teaches t‘

. me to deem

More sa cred ly of everv human hea rt,

S ince ea ch reflects l l l joy i ts s ca ntv gleam

O f heaven,and cou ld some wond rous se c re t show,

D id we but pay the l ove we ou r .

And w i th a ch i ld ’s undoub tiug w i s dom to o l.

O n a ll these l i v ing pages o f fw d s book .

JAME S m '

ss rzm.


TRA IL ING AR BUTUS .

’

DARL I NGS of the forest !Blossom ing

,a lone

,

Wh en E arth ’s gr ief i s sorest

For her jewel s gone

the l ast snow -dri ft me l ts,your s tender

have bl own.

T inged w i th co l or fa int ly,

L i ke the morn ing Sky ,

O r,more pa le and sa int ly

,

Wrapped in leaves ye lieE ven as ch i l dren S leep in fa i th ’s s impl i c i ty.

T here the wi l d wood -rob in

Hymns your so l i tude ;And the ra in comes sobb ing

Through the budd ing wood,

Wh i le the l ow south w ind s ighs,but

more rude.

Were your pure l i ps fash i onedO ut of a i r and dew,

S tarl ight un impassi oned,D awn’s most tender hue,

And scented by the woods that gathered sweets

for you ?

Fa i rest and most l onely,From the worl d apart ;


THE RHOD ORA .

L I NES ON B E I NG ASKED,WH ENCE I s T H E FLOWER ?

IN May,when sea -winds p ierced our so l i tudes

I found the fresh rhodora in the woods,

S pread ing i ts leafless b l ooms in a damp nook ,

T o please the desert and the sl uggi sh brook :The purp le petal s fa l len in the pool

Made the black waters wi th thei r beauty gay,

Here might the red -b ird come h i s p lumes to coo l,

And court the flower that cheapens h i s array .

R hodora ! i f the sages ask thee whyT h i s charm i s wasted on the marsh and sky

,

D ear,tel l them

,that i f eyes were made for seeing,

Then beauty i s i ts own excuse for being.

Why thou wert'

there,O r i va l of the rose !

I never thought to ask ; I never knew,

But in my s imple ignorance suppose

The sel f- same P ower that brought me there

brought you .

RALPH WALDO EMERSON .

E ARLY JUNE .

FROM T H YR S IS

So,some tempestuous morn in early June,

When the year ’s primal b urst of b l oom i s o’er

,

Before the roses and the l ongest day

.When garden -wa lks and a l l the grassy floor

Wi th blossoms red and wh ite of fa l len May

And chestnut -flowers are strewn


So have I heard the cuckoo ’s part ing cry,

From the wet fiel d,through the vext garden

trees,

Come with the vol leying ra in and toss ing

breeze :

The bloom is gone, and with the bloom go 1 !

Too qui ck despai rer,wherefore wi l t then go

S oon wi l l the hi gh Mi dsummer pomps come on,

S oon wi l l the musk carna’

t i ons break and

swel l,

S oon Sha l l we have gold -dusted snapd ragon,

Sweet -VVilliam with h i s homel y cottage

smel l,

And stocks in fragrant bl ow ;R oses that down the a l leys sh ine afar ,

And open,j asm ine-muffled latt ices .

And groups under the d reaming garden

trees,

And the ful l moon,and the wh i te even ing

ls ta r.

MATTH EW ARNO LD .

TO V IOLE T S .

WELCO ME ,ma i d s o f honor !

You doe br ing

In the S pring ,

And wa i t upon her.

S he has v i rgins manv,

Fresh and fa i re ;Yet y ou a re

More sweet than auv.


Y’are the maiden Posies,And

,so grac

’t

To be plac’t

’Fore damask roses .

Yet though thus respected,

By and bv

Ye doe l ie,

Poore girles ! neglected .

ROBERT H ERR ICK.

A SE PTEMBE R V IOLE T .

FOR days the peaks wore hoods of c l oud

The S lopes were ve i led in ch i l ly ra in ;.We sai d : I t i s the S ummer’s Shroud

,

And with the ‘brooks we moaned a loud,

Wi l l sunsh ine never come again ?

'

Ar l ast the west wind brought us one

Serene,warm

,c l oud less

,crysta l day,

As though September,having blown

'

A blast of tempest,now had thrown

A gaunt let to the favored May .

Backward to Spring our fanc ies flew

And,careless of the course of t ime

,

;The bl oomy days began anew .

Then,as a happy dream comes true

,

O r,as a poet finds h i s rhyme

Half wondered at,hal f unbel ieved

I found thee, friendl iest of the flowers.


T hey rust le to the eddying gust,and to the rab~

b i t ’s tread .

The rob in and the wren are flown,and from the

Shrubs the j ay,

And from the wood - top cal l s the crow through all

the gloomy day .

Where are the fl owers,the fa i r young flowers , that

l ately sprang and stood

In brighter l i ght and softer a i rs,a beauteous s i s ~

terhood ?

A l as ! thev a l l are in the i r graves ; the gent le race

of flowers

A re lying in thei r l owly beds w i th the fa i r and

good of ours .

T he ra in i s fa l l ing where they lie ; but the co ldNovember ra in

Cal l s not from out the gl oomy earth the l ovely

ones aga in .

The wind -flower and the vi olet,thev per i shed l ong

ago,

And the br ier - rose and the orch i s d ied amid the

summer gl ow ;But on the h i l l the gol den - rod

,and the aster in

the wood,

And the y el l ow sunflower by the brook in autumn

beauty stood .

T i l l fel l the frost from the c lear col d heaven,as

fa l l s the plague on men,

And the brightness of the i r sm i le was gone from

up land . glade, and glen.

TRE E S :FLOWE R S :PLANTS . 257

And now,when comes the ca lm m i ld day

,as st i l l

such days w i l l come,

To ca l l the squi rrel and the bee from out the i r

winter home ;

When the sound of dropping nuts is heard,

though al l the trees are st i l l,

And tw ink le in the smoky l ight the waters of the

r i l l

The south -wind searches for the fl owers whose

fragrance late he bore

And s ighs to find them in the wood and bv the

stream no more.

And then I th ink of one who in her vouthful

beauty d ied,

The fa i r meek blossom that grew up and faded

by my s ide.

In the col d moi st earth we la i d her, when the

forests cast the leaf,And we wept tha t one so l ovely should have a l i fe

so brief '

Yet not unmeet i t was that one , l i ke tha t voung

fr iend of ours ,S O gentle and so beaut i fu l , should pe r i s h wi th the

flowers .

WI LL IAM CULLE N unvAN'

r.

S UNR I S E : A H YMN O F TH E

IN my s leep I was fa in o f the i r fe llmvs h ip , fa in

Of the l i ve-oak,the ma rsh a nd the ma in .

The l i tt le green leaves would no t le t me a lone

my sleep .

V 1 7


Upbreathed from the marshes,a message of range

and of sweep .

I have waked,I have come

,my bel oved ! I m ight

not abide °

I have come ere the dawn,O bel oved ! my l ive-oaks

to h i de

In vour gospe l l ing glooms— to be

AS a l over in heaven,the marsh mv marsh

,and the

sea my sea .

Tel l me,sweet burly -barked man-bodied T ree

T hat m ine arms in the dark are embrac ing,dost

knowFrom what fount are these tears at thy feet wh i ch

flow ?

They r i se not from reason,but deeper inconse

quent deeps .

R eason ’s not one that weeps .

What l og i c of greet ing l iesB etwi xt dear over-beaut i fu l trees and the ra in of

the eyes ?

0 cunn ing green leaves, l i tt le masters ! l ike as vegloss

All the du l l - t i ssued dark with your l uminous

darks that embossil‘he vague blackness of n i gh t w ith pattern and

plan,

Friend ly,s i sterly

,sweetheart leaves ,

Oh ! ra in me down from your darks that conta inme

Wi sdoms ye winnow from winds that pa in me


No man with room or grace enough of boundTo enterta in that New thou tell

’st

,thou art

’T i s here,

’t i s here thou canst unhand thy heart

And breathe i t free ly,and breathe i t free

By rangy marsh,in l one sea - l i berty .

The t i de ’S at fu l l ; the marsh wi th flooded streams

G l immers,a l impi d l abyr inth of dreams .

E ach w ind ing creek in grave entran‘

cement l ies ,A rhapsody of morn ing stars . The sk ies

S h ine scant wi th one forked ga laxy

The marsh brags ten ; l ooped on h i s breast they

lie.

O h ! what i f a sound should be made !

O h ! what i f a bound shoul d be l a i d

To th i s bow -and - str ing tens i on of beauty and

s i lence a - spr ing,

To the bend of beauty the bow,or the hol d of

si lence the string !

I fear me,I fear me yon dome of d iaphanous

gleam

Will ] break as a bubble o

’erblown in a dream

,

Yon dome of too tenuous t i ssues O f Space and of

n ight,

O verwei ghted wi th stars overfrei ghted w i th l ight ,O versated w i th beauty and s i lence, wi l l seemBut a bubble that broke in a dream ,

If a bound of degree to th i s grace be sa i d

Or a sound or a mot i on made .

‘

But no : i t i s made ; l i st ! somewhere— mystery !

where ?

In the leaves ? in the a i r ?

TR E E S : FLOWE R S : PLANTS . 26 1

n my heart ? i s a mot ion made

i s a moti on of dawn,l i ke a fl i cker of shade on

shade

n the leaves,

’t i s pa lpable ; low mult i tud inous

st i rr ing

pwinds through the woods ; the l i ttle ones , softly

conferr ing,

ave sett led , my lord’s to be l ooked for ; so ; thev

are st i l l ;ut the a i r and my heart and the earth are a

thri l l .

nd l ook where the wi ld duck sa i l s a round the

bend of the ri ver

nd l ook where a pass ionate sh iverxpectant i s bend ing the blades

f the marsh -grass in ser ia l sh immers and

Shades ;And invi s ible wings

,fast fleet ing , fas t flee ting .

are beat ing

The dark overhead as my heart beats ; and s teady

and free

I s the ebb - t ide fl ow ing from ma rsh to sea

(R un home, l i tt le streams

“’ i th your lapful O f stars and d reams ) ,

And a sa i l or i s ho i st ing a -peak

For l ist ! down the inshore cu rve of the c reek

How merr i l y flutters the sa i l ,

And l o ! in the E ast ! \Vi l l the E a s t unve i l ?

The E ast is unve i led , the E a s t ha s co n fe s sed

A flush ! ’t

‘

is dead ! ’t is a l i ve !

’

I is « lead e re the

NVas awa re of i t ! nav,

’t is abid i ng.

'

t is unwith

d rawn

Have a care, sweet l l eaveu' "

l‘

is l iuwu !


Now a dream of a flame through that dream of a‘

flush i s upro l led :

To the zen i th ascending,a dome of undazz l ing

gol d

Is bu i l ded,in shape as a beeh ive

,from out of the

sea ;

The h ive i s of gol d undazz l ing ; but oh ! the B ee,The star -fed B ee

,the bu i l d -fire B ee

,

O f dazz l ing gol d i s the great Sun-B ee

T hat sha l l flash from the h i ve-hole over the sea.

Yet now the dew-drop,now the morn ing gray

S ha l l l i ve thei r l i tt le l uc i d,sober day ;

E re with the Sun thei r sou l s exhale away

Now in each pett iest,personal sphere of dew

The summed morn sh ines complete as in the bl ue

Big dew-drop of a l l Heaven. YVith these l i t

shrines

O’er s i l vered to the furtherest sea -confines

The sacramental marsh,one p i ous plain

O f worsh i p l ies . Peace to the ante- rei gn

Of Mary Morn ing,bl i ssfu l mother m i l d

,

Minded of naught but peace and of a Ch i ld .

Not slower than Majesty moves,for a mean and

a measure

O f moti on,not faster than dateless O lymp ian

lei sure

Mi ght pace with unbl own ample garments from

pleasure to pleasure ;The wave- serrate sea -r im s inks unj arr ing

,unreel

ing,

Forever revea l ing,revea l ing

,revea l ing

,


Creep ing where grim death has been,

A rare o l d p l ant i s the Ivy green.

“’hole ages have fled,and the i r works decayed,

And nat ions have scattered been ;But the stout o l d ivy Shal l never fade

From i ts hale and hearty green .

The brave old pl ant in i ts l onely davsSha l l fatten upon the past ;

For the statel iest bu i l d ing man can ra i se

I s the i vy ’s food at l ast .

Creeping on where T ime has been,

A rare o l d p lant i s the Ivy green .

CH ARLE S D ICKENS .

THE MOUNTA IN FE RN .

O H,the fern

,the fern

,the I ri sh h i l l fern,

That gi rds our bl ue l akes from Lough Ine to

Lough E rne,

That waves on our crags l ike the p lume of a k ing,And bends l i ke a nun over clear wel l and spring.

The fa i ries’ ta l l pa lm -tree,the heath -b i rd ’s fresh

nest

And the couch the red -deer deems the sweetest

and best '

Wi th the free winds to fan i t,and dew-drops to

gem ,

O h,what can ye match w ith i ts beaut i ful stem ?

From the shrine of S t. Finbar,by l one Avon

hwee,


‘o the ha l l s O f D unl uce,with i ts towers bv the

sea,

‘rom the h i l l of Knockthu to the rath of )o vore.

l ike a chaplet that c i rc les our green i s land o'

er.

n the bawn of the ch ief,by the anchor i te’s ce l l ,

ln the h i l l - top or greenwood,' by streamlet or

wel l

Vi th a spel l on each leaf whi ch no morta l can

learn,

) h,there never was plant l ike the I ri sh h i l l fern !

) h, the fern ,the fern

,the Ir i sh h i l l fern .

I‘hat shel ters the weary , or wi ld roe ,

or kern ;

[‘hrough the glens of Kilcoe rose a shout on the

ga le,

As the S axons rushed forth in thei r wra th from

the Pale,

Wi th bandog and blood -hound,a ll savage to see .

I‘

o hunt through C lunca lla the wi l d rappa ree .

Hark! a crv from you del l on the start led ea r

r ings,

And forth from the wood the voung fug i tive

Springs ,I‘

hrough the copse, o’er the bog, l l l tl oh ,

sa i nts

be his gu ide !

His fleet step now f al ters , there'

s bloo d o n h is

S i de ;Yet onward he stra ins , c l imbs the c l i ff . fo rds the

stream,

And s ink s on the h i l l -top ,'

m id bracken le ave s

green ;And th i ck o

’er h i s brow are the fresh c l us te rs

p i led ,


And they cover h i s form as a mother her ch i l d,

And the S axon i s baffled . They never d i scernWhere i t She l ters and saves h im

,the I ri sh hill

fern.

Oh,the fern, the

'

fern,the Ir i sh h i l l fern

,

That pours a w i l d keen o’er the hero ’s gray ca i rn

Go hear i t at m idn igh t,when stars are a l l out

,

And the wind o’er the h i l l - S i de i s moan ing about

,

Wi th a rus tle and st i r,and a low wai l ing tone .

That thr i l l s through the heart w ith i ts wh i sper ing

lone '

And ponder i ts mean ing,when hap ly you stray

Where the ha l l s of the stranger in ru in decay ;Wi th n i ght - owl s for warders

,the goshawk for

guest,

And thei r da i s of honor by catt le-hoof pressed,

Wi th i ts foss choked w i th rushes,and sp i der webs

flung,

O ver wa l l s where the marchmen thei r red weapons

hung

Wi th a curse on thei r name,and a S i gh for the

hour

That tarries so l ong. Look what waves on the

tower

Wi th an omen and S i gn,and an augury stern

’T i s the green flag of T ime,’t i s the I r i sh h i l l fern.

ARTH UR GERALD GEOGH EGAN .


And they cover h i s form as a mother her ch i l d

And the S axon i s baffled . They never d i scern

Where i t she l ters and saves h im,the I r i sh h i ll

fern .

O h,the fern the fern,

the Ir i sh h i l l fern,

That pours a wi l d keen o’er the hero ’s gray ca i rn

,

Go hear i t at m idn i ght,when stars are al l out

,

And the wind o’er the h i l l - S i de i s moan ing about,

W'

i th a rustle and st i r, and a low wai l ing tone .

That thr i l l s through the heart w ith i ts wh i sper ing

l one °

And ponder i ts mean ing,when haply you stray

IVhere the ha l l s of the stranger in ru in decay ;Wi th n i ght -owl s for warders

,the goshawk for

guest,

And thei r da i s of honor by catt le-hoof pressed ,

W'

i th i ts foss choked w i th rushes,and sp i der webs

flung,

O ver wa l l s where the marchmen thei r red weapons

hung,

l Vith a curse on thei r name,and a s igh for the

hour

That tarries so l ong. Look what waves on the

tower

Wi th an omen and s ign,and an augury stern

’T i s the green flag of T ime,’t i s the Ir i sh h i l l fern.

ARTH UR GERALD GEOGH EGAN .


THE MAI Z E .

That; precious seed into the furrow cast

E arliest in spring- tim e crowns the harvest last.

—PH (E BE CARY.

SONG for the pl ant of my own nati ve West .

Where nature and freedom res i de,y plenty st i l l crowned , and by peace

~

ever blest

To the corn ! the green corn of her pride !

:1 c l imes of the E ast has the ol ive been sung ,

And the grape been the theme of the i r l avs ;

ut for thee shal l a harp of the backwoods be

strung,Thou br ight , ever beaut ifu l ma i ze !

.far in the forest the rude cab ins ri se,

And,

send up the i r p i l lars of smoke ,

Ind the tops of thei r col umns are l os t in the

sk ies,

O’er the heads of the cl oud -k iss ing o ak ;

tear the sk i rt of the grove , where the s turdv

arm swings

The axe t i l l the ol d giant sways ,

And echo repeats every bl ow as it r ings ,

Shoots the green and the glorious ma i ze !

I‘here buds of the buckeye in spring a re the fi rs t .

'

And the w i l l ow’

s gol d ha i r then appea rs ,

And snowy the cups of the dogwood tha t bu rs t

By the red bud ,w i th p ink -t i nted tea rs .

And str i ped the bo l l s wh i ch the poppy hold s up

For the dew,and the sun

’

s vellow rays ,


And brown i s the pawpaw ’s Shade-bl ossomingcup

,

In the wood,near the sun - l ov ing ma ize !

When through the dark $0 1 1 the bright steel of

the p lough

Turns the moul d from i ts unbroken bedThe pl oughman i s cheered by the finch on the

bough ,And the blackb i rd doth fol l ow h i s tread .

And i d le,afar on the l andscape descr ied

,

The deep - l owing k ine S l ow ly graze,

And n i bbl ing the grass on the sunny h i l l s i de

Are the sheep,hedged away from the maize.

Wi th spring - t ime and cu l ture,in mart i a l array

It waves i ts green broadswords on h igh,

And fi ghts w i th the ga le,in a flutter ing fray

,

And the sunbeams,wh i ch fa l l from the sky ;

I t str i kes i ts green b l ades at the zephyrs at noon

And at n i ght at the sw i ft -fly ing fays,Who ri de through the darkness the beams of the

moon,

Through the spears and the flags of the maize !

When the summer i s fierce st i l l i ts banners are

green,

E ach warri or ’s l ong beard groweth red ,

H is emera l d -bright sword i s Sharp -

pom ted and

keen,

And golden h i s tassel - plumed head .

As a host of armed kn i ghts set a monarch at

naught,


And brown i s the pawpaw ’s shade-blossomin

cup,

In the wood,near the sun - l ov ing mai ze !

When through the dark So i l the bright steel 0

the p lough

Turns the moul d from i ts unbroken bed

The pl oughman i s cheered by the finch on the

bough ,And the bl ackb i rd doth fo l l ow h i s tread .

And i d le,afar on the l andscape descr ied

,

The deep - l owing k ine s l ow ly graze,

And n i bbl ing the grass on the sunny h i l l s i de

Are the sheep,hedged away from the maize.

Wi th spring - t ime and cu l ture,in mart i a l array

It waves i ts green broadswords on h igh ,And fi ghts w i th the ga le

,in a flutter ing fray

,

And the sunbeams, wh i ch fa l l from the sky

I t str i kes i ts green b lades at the zephyrs at noon,

And at n ight at the sw i ft -fly ing fays,Who r i de through the darkness the beams of the

moon,

Through the spears and the flags of the maize !

When the summer i s fierce st i l l i ts banners are

green,

E ach warri or’s l ong beard groweth red ,

H is emera l d -bri ght sword i s sharp -

pom ted and

keen,

And golden h i s tassel -plumed head .

As a host of armed kn i ghts set a monarch at

naught,

TR E E S :FLO IVE R S :PLANTS . 260

That defy the day -god to h i s gaze,

nd, rev i ved every morn from the batt le that ’s

fought,

Fresh stand the green ranks of the ma ize !

ut brown comes the autumn,and sear grows

the corn,

And the woods l ike a ra inbow are dressed .

nd but for the cock and the noont ide horn

Old T ime would be tempted to res t.

he humming bee fans off a shower of gold

From the mul lein’s l ong rod as i t su a y s ,

nd dry grow the leaves wh i ch protect ing info ld

The ears of the wel l -r ipened ma i ze !

It length Ind i an Summer,the l ovel y , do th come ,

Wi th i ts b lue fros ty n i ghts,and da y s s ti l l .

Vhen d i stantly clear sounds the waterfa l l’

s hum .

And the sun smokes abl aze on the h i l l !

1 d im ve i l hangs over the land scape and flood ,

And the h i l l s are a ll me l l owed in haze ,

7Vhile Fal l,creep ing on l i ke a monk ’

nea th his

hood,

P l ucks the th i ck - rus tl ing wea l th o f the ma i ze .

And the heavy wa ins creak to the ba rns la rge and

gray,

IVhere the trea su re s ecu re ly we ho ld .

Ioused sa fe from the tempes t. « Irv-she l te red awa y .

Our bless ing mo re prec ious tha n go ld !

And l ong for th is manna tha t s prings from the

sod


Shal l we gratefu l ly gi ve h im the pra i se,

The source of a l l bounty, our Father and GodWho sent us from heaven the mai ze !

WI LL IAM W . FO SD ICK.

THE PUMPKIN .

O,GREENLY and fa i r in the l ands of the sun

,

The vines of the gourd and the r i ch mel on run,

And the rock and the tree and the cottage enfo l d,

Wi th broad leaves a l l greenness and bl ossoms a l lgo l d

,

L i ke that wh i ch o’er Nineveh ’s prophet once grew

,

Wh i le he wa i ted to know that h i s warn ing was

true,

And l onged for the storm - c l oud,and l i stened in

va in

For the rush of the wh irlwind and red fire- ra in.

O n the banks of the X enil,the dark S pan i sh

ma i den

Comes up wi th the fru i t of the tangled v ine laden

And the Creole of Cuba l aughs out to beho ldThrough orange- leaves sh in ing the broad spheres

of go ld :

Yet with dearer del i ght from h i s home in the

North,

O n the fiel ds of h i s harvest the Yankee l ooks forth .

Where crook -necks are co i l ing and yel l ow fru i t

sh ines,

And the sun of September mel ts down On h is

v ines .


Shal l we gratefu l ly gi ve h im the pra i se,

The source of a l l bounty,our Father and God

Who sent uS from heaven the mai ze !

W I LL IAM W . FO SD ICK .

THE PUMPKIN .

O,GREENLY and fa i r in the l ands of the sun

,

The vines of the gourd and the r i ch mel on run,

And the rock and the tree and the cottage enfo ld,

Wi th broad leaves a l l greenness and bl ossoms al lgo l d

,

L ike that wh i ch o’er Nineveh ’s prophet onceg rew,

IVhile he wa ited to know that h i s warn ing was

true,

And l onged for the storm - c l oud,and l i stened in

va in

For the rush of the wh irlw ind and red fire- ra in.

On the banks of the X enil,the dark S pan i sh

maiden

Comes up with the fru i t of the tangled v ine laden ;And the Creo le of Cuba l aughs out to beholdThrough orange- leaves sh in ing the broad spheres

of gold ;Yet with dearer del i ght from h i s home in the

North,

O n the fiel ds of h i s harvest the Yankee l ooks forth .

Where crook -necks are co i l ing and yel l ow fru i ti

sh ines,

And the sun of September mel ts down On his

v ines .

TR E E S :FLOWE R S :PLANTS . 27 1

on Thanksg iv ing D ay , when from E ast and

from West,

In North and from S outh come the p i lgr im

and guest,

hen the gray -ha i red New-E nglander sees round

h i s board

(I broken l inks of affect ion restored

the care-wearied man seeks his mother“

once more,

nd the worn matron smi les where the girl

sm i led before,

hat mo i stens the l ip and wha t brightens the

eye?

hat ca l l s back the past, l ike the r i ch pumpk in

p ie?

fru i t l oved of boyhood ! the ol d da y s reca l l ing ;

Vhen wood -grapes were purpl ing and brown nu ts

were fa l l ing !

Vhen wi ld,ugly faces we carved in its sk in.

tlaring out th rough the dark wi th a cand le

with in !

Vhen we l aughed round the co rn-he ap . wi th

hearts a l l in tune ,iur cha i r a broad pumpk in ,

our lantern the moon.

f

el l ing ta les of the fa i ry who t rave l led l ike s team

n a pumpk in- shel l coach, wi th two ra ts for her

team !

.

‘hen thanks for thy present !—none sweete r o r

betterU ,

Il’er smoked from an oven or c irc led a pla ttu


Fai rer hands never wrought at a pastry more

fine,

Brighter eyes never watched o’er i ts bak ing, than

th ine !

And the prayer, wh i ch my mouth i s too fu l l to

express,

Swel l s my heart that thy Shadow may never be

less,

That the days of thy l ot may be lengthened bel ow ,

And the fame of thy worth l i ke a pumpk in -Vine

grow,

And thy l i fe be as sweet, and i ts l ast sunset skyGolden -t inted and fa i r as thy own pumpk in -

pie !

JOH N GREENLEAF WH ITT I ER.

THE QUE ST ION .

I DREAM ED that,as I wandered by the way,

Bare winter suddenly was changed to spr ing,And gent le odors led my steps astray

,

M ixt w i th a sound of wate rs murmuring

A l ong a shel v ing bank of turf,wh i ch l ay

Under a copse,and hard ly dared to fl ing

I ts green arms round the bosom of the stream

But k i st i t and then fled,as thou mightest in

dream .

There grew p ied wind -flowers and v i o lets,

D a i s ies,those pearled Arcturi of the earth

,

The conste l l ated flower tha t never sets ;Fa int oxs l ips ; tender bl uebel l s, at whose b i rth


Fai rer hands never wrought at a pastry mo

fine,

B r ighter eyes never watched o’er i ts bak ing

, tha

th ine !

And the prayer,wh i ch my mouth i s too fu l l

express,

Swel l s my heart that thy shadow may never be

less,

That the days of thy lot may be lengthened bel ow,

And the fame of thy worth l ike a pumpk in -vine

grow,

And thy l i fe be as sweet,and i ts l ast sunset sky

Golden- t inted and fa i r as thy own pumpk in-

pie !

JOH N GREENLEAF WH ITT I ER.

THE QUE ST ION .

I DREAM ED that,as I wandered by the way,

Bare winter suddenly was changed to Spr ing,

And gent le odors led my steps astray,

Mi xt w i th a sound of wate rs murmuring

A l ong a shel v ing bank of turf,whi ch l ay

Under a copse,and hard ly dared to fl ing

Its green arms round the bosom of the stream

But k i st i t and then fled,as thou m ightest

dream .

There grew pied wind -flowers and v i o lets,D ai s ies

,those pearled Arcturi of the earth

,

The conste l l ated flower that never sets ;Faint oxsl ips ; tender bluebel l s, at whose b i rt


he sod scarce heaved ; and that tal l fl ower that

wets

L ike a ch i l d,ha l f in tenderness and mirth

S mother’s face wi th heaven’s col lected tears,

’hen the l ow w ind,i ts p l aymate’s vo i ce

,i t hears .

nd in the warm hedge grew lush eglant ine .

Green cowbind and the moonl i ght colored May .

nd cherry - bl ossoms,and whi te cups

,whose wine

Was the bright dew, yet dra ined not bv the

day ;

nd wi ld roses,and i vy serpent ine

Wi th i ts dark buds and leaves'

wandering

astray ;nd flowers azure

,black

,and streakt wi th gold .

a i rer than any wakened eves behold .

nd nearer to the r iver’s trembl ing edge

T here grew broad hag- fl owers , purple prank t

with wh i te,

nd starry r i ver bud s among the sedge ,

And float ing water- l i l ies,broad and bright.

Vli ich l i t the oak tha t overhung the hedge

Wi th moon l i ght beams of the i r own wa te rv

l i gh t '

tud bulrushes,and reeds o f such deep gree n

s soothed the dazz led eye with s obe r s heen .

{ ethought tha t of these vis iona rv flowe rs

I made a nosegay bound in such a wav

V— l 8


That the same hues,wh i ch in the i r natuI

bowers

Were mingled or opposed , the l ike arrav

Kept these impri soned ch i l dren of the H ours

Wi th in my hand ,— and then,e l ate and gay ,

I h astened to the spot whence I had come,

That I m ight there present i t — oh ! to whom ?

P ERCY B YS SH E SH ELLEY.

SAS SAFRAS .

FR ING ING cypress forests d imWhere the ow l makes wei rd abode,

Bend ing down w ith Sp i cy l imb

O’er the ol d p l antat ion road

Through the swamp and up the h i l l,

Wh ere the dappled bywavs run,

R ound the gin-house,by the mi l l

,

Floats i ts incense to the sun.

Swi ft to catch the voi ce of spring,

S oon i ts tasse l led bl ooms appear ;Modest in thei r b l ossoming

,

Breath ing balm and waving cheer ;R are the greet ing that they send

To the fragrant w i l dwood bl ooms,

B idd ing every bl ossom blend

In a chorus of perfumes .

On i t leans the blackberry Vine,

Wi th wh i te spravs caress ingly ;B ound i ts knees the wi l d peas twine,Beckon ing to the yel l ow bee ;


And ever Sha l l,

.t i l l that m ine herte die

A ll swere I not,of th i s I w i l l not lie.

My bus ie gost, that thursteth a lway newe,

To seen th i s flour so yong,so fresh of hew

,

Constra ined me,with so greedy des i re

,

That in my herte I fele yet the fire,That made me r i se ere i t were day

,

And th i s was now the first IDO I‘OW ’

OI May ,

W’

i th dreadfu l* herte,and glad devot i on

For to been at the resurrect ion

O f th i s floure,whan that i t Shou l d uncl ose

Againe the S unne, that rose as redde as rose.

And doune on knees anon ri ght I me sette,

And as I coul d,th i s fresh floure I grette

,

Kneel ing a lway,t i l l i t unc l osed was

,

Upon the smal l,soft

,swete gras

,

T hat was w i th floures swete embrouded a l l,

O f such swetenesse,and such odour overa l l

That for to speke of gomme,herbe

,or tree

Compar i son may not ymaked be,

For i t surmounteth pl a in ly a l l odoures,And of r i ch beaute of floures .

And Z eph irus, and Fl ora gentelly ,Yave to these floures soft and tenderly ,H is swotet breth , and made h im for to sprede,As god and goddesse of the flourie mede,In whi ch me thoughte I m ight day by day,Dwellen a lway

, the j oly month of Mav,

Wi thouten slepe, withouten meat or drinkeAdoune fu l l soft ly I gan to s inke

Fearful . tSweet.


And lean ing on my elbow and my s ide,

The l ong day I shope me for to abide,

For noth ing els,and I sha l l nat lie

,

But for to looke upon the da i s ie,

That wel l by reason men i t ca l l may

The dai s ie,or els the eye of the day ,

The empress and floure of floures al l ,I pray to God that fa ire mote she fa l l

,

And a l l that l oven floures for her sake .

CH AUCER.

TO A MOUNTAIN DAI S Y.

ON TURN ING ON E DOWN W I'

I‘

II T I I E I’LO UG II I NA PR I L

, 1 786 .

WE E,modest

,crimson - t ipped flower,

Thou’s met me in an evi l h ou r,

For I maun crush amang the s toure

Thy slender stem ;

To spare thee now is past mv power,

Thou bonny gem .

A l as ! i t ’s no thy neebor sweet ,

The bonn ie lark , compan ion mee t .

Bendi ng thee ’mang the dewy wee t.

IV i’ spreck led brea s t.

When upwa rd spr inging ,b l i the to greet

The purpl ing ea st .

Cauld blew the b itte r-bi ting north

Upon thy ea rly ,humble bi rth ;

Yet cheerful ly thou gl inted fo rth


Amid the storm,

S carce reared above the parent earth :

Thy tender form .

The flaunting flowers our gardens y ieldH igh shel ter ing woods and wa ’s maun sh ield

But thou beneath the random b ieldO ’ c l od or stane

,

Adorns the h i st ie st ibble-field,

‘

Unseen,al ane.

There,in thy scanty mant le c l ad ,Thy snawie bosom sunward spread

,

Thou l i fts thy unassum ing head

In humble gu i se °

But now the share uptears thy bed,

And l ow thou l ies !

S uch i s the fate of art less maid,

Sweet floweret of the rura l shade !

B y l ove’s s imp l i c i ty betrayed

,

And gu i leless trust,

T i l l she,l i ke thee

,a l l so i led

,i s l a i d

Low i ’ the dust .

S uch i s the fate of s imple bard,

O n l i fe’s rough ocean l uck less starred !Unsk i l fu l he to note the card

O f prudent l ore,

T i l l b i l l ows rage,and gales b l ow hard

,

And whelm h im o’er '

S uch fate to suffering worth i s g iven,

Who l ong wi th wants and woes has stri ven,


THE MAR IPO SA L ILY .

IN SECT or b lossom ? Fragi le,fa i ry th ing

,

P o i sed upon s lender t ip,and qu iver ing

To fl i ght ! a flower of the fiel ds of a i r ;A jewel led moth ; a butterfly , with rare

And tender t ints upon h i s downy wing,A moment rest ing in our happy S i ght ;A flower hel d capt i ve by a thread so sl ight

I ts peta l -wings of bro idered gossamer

Are,l ight as the wind

,with every w ind ast i r,

Waft ing sweet odor,fa int and exqu i s i te.

O da inty nursl ing of the fiel d and sky,

What fa i rer th ing looks up to heaven ’s b lue

And drinks the noont i de Sun, the dawn ing

’s dew ?

Thou w inged b loom ! thou b l ossom -butterfly !

I NA DONNA CO O LB R ITH .

THE WATE R L ILY .

WH ENCE, O fragrant form of l i ght

,

H ast thou dri fted through the n ight,

Swan l i ke,to a leafy nest

,

O n the rest less waves,at rest ?

Art thou from the snowy zone

O f a mounta in- summi t bl own,

Or the bl ossom of a dream

Fash i oned in the foamy stream ?

TR E E S : FLO IVE RS : PLANTS . 28 1

Nay,— meth inks the maiden moon,

When the dayl i ght came too soon,

Fleet ing from her bath to h ide,

Left her garment in the t ide .

JOH N BAN I STER TABB .

COPA DE ORO .

( CAL I FORN IA P O P P Y . )

TH Y sat in vesture ri cher i s than l ooms

O f O rient weave for ra iment of her k ings !

Not dyes of olden Tyre,not prec ious th ings

R egathered from the l ong - fo rgot ten tombs

O f bur ied empires,not the i r i s plumes

That wave upon the trop i cs ’ my riad wings .

Not a l l proud S heba ’s queenly o ffe rings .

Could match the,

golden marvel of thv b looms .

For thou art nurtured from the t rea su re -ve i ns

O f th i s fa ir land :thy golden root lets s up

Her sand s of go ld— of gold thy pe ta l s s pun.

Her golden glory,thou ! on h i l ls and pla ins .

L i ft ing,exu l tant

,every k ingly cup

Brimmed wi th the golden v intage o f the s un.

I NA DO NNA Coo I.Iau'

rII .

THE MOS S ROS E .

T H E angel of. the fl owers ,one dav,

Beneath a. rose -tree s leep ing la y ,

That spi r i t, to whose cha rge'

t is gi \ en

To bathe young bud s in dews o f he a \ en.


Awak ing from h i s l ight repose,

The ange l wh i spered to the rose

0 fondest object of my care,

S t i l l fa i rest found , where a l l are fa i r°

For the sweet shade thou giv’st to me

Ask what thou w i l t,

’t i s granted thee.

”

Then,

” sa i d the rose,wi th deepened gl ow,

O n me another grace bestow .

The sp i r i t paused,in s i lent thought

,

“’ hat grace was there that flower had not ?’T was but a moment

,

'

—o’er the rose

A vei l of moss the angel throws

And,robed in nature’s S imp lest weed

,

Cou ld there a flower that rose exceed ?

F rom the German of F . W. KRUMMACH ER .

FLOWE R S .

I WILL not have the mad Clyt ie,YVhose head i s turned by the sun ;

The tu l ip i s a court ly quean,

Whom,therefore

,I w i l l shun

The cowsl i p i s a country wench,

The v i o let i s a nun ;

But I w i l l woo the da inty rose,The queen of every one .

The‘

pea i s but a wanton witch,In too much haste to wed

And c l asps her rings on every hand ;The wol fsbane I shoul d dread ;

Nor w i l l I dreary rosemarye,

That always mourns the dead ;

.284 POEMS OF NATUR E .

So soon may I fo l l ow,

When friendsh ips decay ,And from l ove’s sh in ing c i rc le

The gems drop away !

When true hearts lie withered,

And fond ones are flown,

0,who wou ld inhab i t

Th i s b leak worl d a lone ?

TH OMAS MOORE .

TO THE FR INGE D GE NT IAN .

TH OU bl ossom,bright w i th autumn dew

,

And co l ored w i th the heaven’s own b lue

T hat openest when the quiet l i ght

S ucceeds the keen and frosty n ight ;

T hou comest not when v i o lets lean

O’er wandering brooks and springs unseen

,

Or col umbines,in purp le dressed

,

Nod o’er the ground -bi rd ’s h i dden nest .

T hou waitest l ate,and com ’

st alone,

When woods are bare and bi rds are flown

And frosts and shorten ing days portendThe aged Year i s near h i s end .

Then doth thy sweet and qu iet eye

Look through i ts fringes to the sky,

B lue—bluew as i f that sky let fa l l

A flower from i ts cerulean wal l .

TR E E S : FLOWE R S : PLANTS’. 285

I would that thus,when I sha l l see

The hour of death draw near to me,

H ope,bl ossom ing w i th in my heart

,

May l ook to heaven as I depart .

WI LL IAM CULLEN BRYANT.

THE S EA -POPPY .

A P O P PY grows upon the shore

Bursts her tw in cup in summer l ate

Her leaves are glaucous green and hear

Her peta l s yel l ow,del i cate .

O ft to her cous ins turns her thought ,In wonder i f they care that she

I s fed wi th spray for dew. and caught

By every ga le that sweeps the sea .

She has no lovers l i ke the Red

That dances with the noble CornHer bl ossoms on the waves a re shed .

Where she s i ts sh ivering and fo rl orn .

RO B ERT s E YMO I'

R l l ltl l i t iE S .

GO LD E NRO I) .

VVIIE II the ways ide tangles blaze

III the low S eptembe r sun .

‘Vhen the fl owe rs o f S umme r d a vs

I ) roop and w i the r.one bv o ne ,

R each ing up through bush a nd brier.

S umptuous brow and hea r t o f ti re .

Flaunt ing h igh its pl ume ,


Brave with wea l th of nat i ve bloom,

Go ldenrod !

When the meadow ,l ately shorn

P arched and l angu id,swoons w i th pain,

When her l i fe-bl ood,n ight and morn

,

S hrinks in every throbbing ve in,

R ound her fa l len,tarn i shed urn

Leap ing watch -fires bri ghter burn ;R oya l arch o

’er Autumn’s gate

,

Bend ing l ow w i th lustrous wei ght,

Goldenrod

In the pasture’s rude embrace,

A ll o’errun with tangled vines

,

Where the th i st le c l a ims i ts p l aceAnd the straggl ing hedge confines

,

B ear ing st i l l the sweet impress

O f unfettered l ovel iness,

In'

the fiel d and by the wal l,

B inding,c lasp ing

,crown ing al l

,

Go ldenrod !

N ature l ies d i shevel led,pa le

,

Wi th her fever i sh l i ps apart,

D ay by day the pul ses fa i l ,Nearer to her bounding heart ;

Yet th at S l ackened grasp doth ho ldS tOre of pure and genu ine gold ;

Qui ck thou comest,strong and free

,

T ype of a l l the weal th to be,Goldenrod !

ELAINE GOODALE EASTMAN.


BIRD S .

FROM T H E P EL ICAN I SLAND .

”

- B IRDs the free tenants of l and,a i r

,and ocean

,

T he i r forms a ll symmetry,the i r mot i ons grace ;

In p lumage,de l i cate and beaut i fu l

,

T h i ck wi thout burden,c l ose as fishes ’ s cales

,

O r l oose as ful l -grown popp ies to the breeze ;Wi th wings that might have had a sou l w ith in

them,

T hey bore the i r owners by such sweet enchant

ment,

Bi rds,smal l and great

,of endless shapes and

col ors,

Here flew and perched,there swam and d ived at

pleasure ;Watchfu l and agi le

,uttering vo i ces w i l d

And harsh, yet in accordance with the waves

Upon the beach,the wind in caverns moan ing,

O r winds and waves abroad upon the water .

S ome sought thei r food among the finny shoal s,Swift dart ing from the c l ouds

,emerging soon

IVith s lender capt i ves gl i tter ing in the i r beaks ;These in recesses of steep crags constructed

Thei r eyr ies inaccess ib le,and tra ined

Thei r hardy broods to forage in al l weathers

O thers , more gorgeously apparel led, dwel t

Among the woods, on nature’s da int iest feed ing,Herbs

,seeds

,and roots ; or, ever on the wing,

Pursu ing insects through the boundless a i r :

In hol low trees or th i ckets these concea led

ANIMATE NATUR E . 289

hei r exqu i s i tely woven nests ; where l ay

he i r ca l l ow offspring,quiet as the down

thei r own breasts,t i l l from her search the

dam

th l aden b i l l returned , and shared the mea l

g her c l amorous suppl i ants,a ll agape ;

en,cowering o

’er them wi th expanded wings

,

e fe l t how sweet i t is to be a mother .

f these,a few

,wi th mel ody untaught

urned a l l the a i r to musi c wi th in hear ing ,

hemselves unseen ; wh i le bolder qui ri sters

n l oft iest branches stra ined the i r c larion-pipes .

nd made the forest echo to the i r screams

iscordant,—yet there was no. d iscord there,

ut tempered harmony ; a ll tones combin ing .

the r i ch confluence of ten thousand tongues .

To te l l of j oy and to insp i re i t . WhoCould hear such concert , and no t j o in in cho rus .

’

.IAM E s MoN'

I‘

GO M IJRY .

TO THE

HAI L,beauteous stranger o f

'

the grove !

Thou messenger o f sp ri ng !

Now Heaven repa i rs thy ru ra l sea t.

And woods thy we l come s ing .

W’ha t t ime the da isv de cks the gre en.

Thy certa in vo i ce we hea r.

Hast thou a sta r to gu ide thv p ath .

Or mark the ro l l ing y ea r?

Del i gh tfu l v i s i tant ! w i th thee

I ha il the t ime o f fl owers ,

V— 1 9


And hear the sound of mus i c sweet

From b irds among the bowers .

The schoo l -boy , wander ing through the wood

To pul l the primrose gay,

S tarts,the new vo i ce of S pr ing to hear

And im i tates thy l ay .

What t ime the pea puts on the bloom,

Thou fl iest thy vocal va le,An annual guest in other lands

Another spr ing to ha i l .

Sweet b i rd ! thy bower i s ever green,

Thy Sky i s ever c lear

Thou hast no sorrow In thy song,

N0 winter in thy year !

O ,coul d I fly

,I ’d fly with thee !

We’d make

,with j oyfu l w ing

,

O ur annua l v i s i t o’er the globe

,

Compan i ons of the Spring .

JOH N LOGAN.

TO THE CUCKO O .

O B L ITH E new- comer ! I have heard,

I hear thee and rej o i ce.

A cuckoo ! shal l I ca l l thee b ird,Or but a wander ing vo i ce ?

Wh i le I am lying on the grass

Thy twofo l d shout I hear ;


HARK,HARK ! THE LARK.

FROM CYM B EL I NE,ACT I I

,SC . 3 ,

HARK,hark ! the l ark at heaven’s gate

And Phoebus ’gins ari se,

H is steeds to water at those spr ings

O n cha l i ced flowers that l ies ;And wink ing Mary -buds begin

To ope the i r golden eyes ;Wi th everyth ing that pretty bin

,

My l ady sweet, arise ;Ar i se

,ari se !

SH AKESP EARE .

THE LARK ASCE ND ING .

H E rl ses and begins to round,

He drops the s ilger cha in of sound

O f many l inks w i thout a break,

In ch i rrup,whi st le

,s lur and Shake

A ll intervo lved and spread ing w ide,

L i ke water- d imp les down a t i de

Where r ipple r ipple overcurls

And eddy into eddy wh i rl s ;A press of hurried notes that run

S o fleet they scarce are more than one,

Yet changingly the trills‘

repeat

And l inger r inging wh i le they fleet

Sweet to the qu i ck 0’the ear, and dear

To her beyond the handmai d ear,

\Vho S i ts bes i de our inner springs ,

ANIMATE NATUR E .

Too often dry for th i s he brings,

Wh i ch seems the very jet of earth

At sight of sun,her musi c ’s mirth

,

As up he wings the sp i ra l sta i r,

A song of l ight,and p ierces a ir

Wi th fountain ardor, founta in play,To reach the sh in ing tom of day

,

And drink in everyth ing d i scerned,

An ecstasy to mus i c turned,

Impel led by what h i s happy bi l l

D i sperses ; dr ink ing, showering sti l l,

Unth ink ing save that he may give

H is vo i ce the out let,there to l i ve

R enewed in end less notes of glee ,

So th i rsty of h i s vo i ce i s be ,For a l l to hea r and a ll to know

That he i s j oy , awake ,aglow,

The tumul t of the hea rt to hear

Through pureness fil tered cr y s ta l - c lea r.

And know the pleasu re s pr inkled bright

By simple s inging o f de l igh t,

S hr i l l,i rreflect i ve , unres tra ined ,

R apt,r inging, on the je t sus ta ined

Wi thou t a break ,wi thout a fa l l .

Sweet - s i l very,sheer lvr ica l,

P erenn ia l , quavering up the ch o rd

L i ke myri ad dews o f s ono v swa rd

T ha t t rembl ing into ful ne s s s hi ne

And Spark le d ropp ing a rgent im

S uch woo ing a s the ea r rece ive s

From zephyr caught in c ho ric leave s

O f aspens when the i r cha tte ri ng ne t

Is fl ushed to wh i te wi th s hive rs we t

293


And such the water - Sp i r i t’s ch ime

O n mounta in heights in morn ing’s prime,

Too fresh ly sweet - to seem excess,

Too an imate to need a stress ;But wider over many headsThe starry vo i ce ascend ing spreads

,

Awakening,as i t waxes th in

The best in us to h im ak in ;And every face to watch h im ra i sed

,

P uts on the l i ght of ch i l dren pra i sed,So r i ch our human p leasure ri pes

When sweetness on s incereness p ipes,

Though nought he prom i sed from the seas

But on ly a soft -ruffling breeze

Sweep gl i tter ing on a st i l l content

S eren i ty in rav i shment .

For s inging t i l l h i s heaven fi l l s,

’T i s l ove of earth that he inst i l s,

And ever wmgmg up and up,

Our va l ley i s h i s go l den cup

And he the wine wh i ch overflows

To l i ft us w ith h im as he goes

The woods and brooks, the sheep and kine;

He i s,the h i l l s

,the human l ine

,

The meadows green,the fa l l ows brown,

The dreams of l abor in the town ;He s ings the sap , the qu i ckened veins ;The wedd ing song of sun and ra ins

He i s,the dance of ch i ldren, thanks

O f sowers,Shout of primrose-banks

,

And eye of v io lets wh i le they breathe ;All these the c i rc l ing song wi l l wreathe,


Wherefore thei r sou l in me, or m ine,

Through se l f - forgetfulness d i v ine,

In them,that song al oft ma inta ins,

To fi l l the sky and thr i l l the pl a ins

Wi th showerings drawn from human stores,As he to s i lence nearer soars,E xtends the worl d at w ings and dome

More spac i ous mak ing, more our home,

T i l l l ost on h i s aeri a l r ings

In l ight,and then the fancy s ings .

GEORGE M ERED ITH .

TO THE SKYLARK .

E TH EREAL minstre l ! p i lgr im of the sky !D ost thou desp i se the earth where cares abound

O r,wh i le the wings asp ire

,are heart and eye

Both w i th thy nest upon the dewy ground ?

Thy nest,wh i ch thou canst drop into at w i l l ,

T hose qu iver ing wings composed,that mus i c st i l l !

To the l ast po int of v i s i on,and beyond

,

Mount,daring warbler ! - that l ove -prompted

stra in,

’Twixt thee and th ine a never - fa i l ing bond,

T hri l l s not the less the bosom of the pl ain

Yet mightst thou seem,proud pri v i lege ! to s ing

A ll independent of the leafy spring .

Leave to the ni ght inga le her Shady wood ;A pr i vacy of gl or ious l igh t i s th ine

,

VVhence thou dost pour upon the worl d a floodOf harmony

,with inst inct more d iv ine ,


Type of the wi se, who soar, but never roam ,

T rue to the k indred po ints of Heaven and H ome !

WI LL IAM WORDSWO RTH .

TO THE SKYLARK .

HA I L to thee,b l i the sp i r i t !

Bi rd thou never wert,

That from heaven,or near i t

P ourest thy ful l heart

profuse stra ins of unpremed itated

H igher st i l l and h igher

From the earth thou springest,

L i ke a c l oud of fire ;The blue deep thou wingest,

s inging st i l l dost soar,and soar ing ever

S ingest.

In the go l den l i ghtn ing

Of the sett ing sun,

O’er wh i ch c l ouds are br ighten ing

,

T hou dost float and run ;

an unbod ied j oy whose race i s j ust begun .

The pale purp le even

Mel ts around thy fl igh t

L ike a star of heaven,

In the broad dayl ightThou art unseen

,but vet I hear thy shr i l l del i ght.

Keen as are,

,the arrows

Of that s i l ver sphere,


Wherefore thei r soul in me,or m ine

,

Through sel f - forgetfulness d i v ine,

In them,th at song a l oft ma inta ins

,

To fi l l the sky and thr i l l the pl a ins

Wi th showerings drawn from human stores,

As he to s i lence nearer soars,

E xtends the worl d at wings and dome,More spac i ous mak ing, more our homeT i l l l ost on h i s aeri a l r ings

In l i ght,and then the fancy s ings .

GEORGE MERED ITH .

TO THE SKYLARK .

E TH EREAL m instre l ! p i lgr im of the sky !D ost thou desp i se the earth where cares abound

O r, wh i le the wings asp i re, are heart and eye

Both w i th thy nest upon the dewy ground ?

Thy nest,wh i ch thou canst drop into at w i l l

T hose qu i ver ing w ings composed,that muS Ic st i l l !

To the l ast po int of v i s i on,and beyond

,

Mount,dar ing warb ler ! - that l ove-prompted

stra in,

’Twixt thee and th ine a never - fa i l ing bond,

Thri l l s not the less the bosom of the p l a in ;Yet mightst thou seem

,proud pri v i lege ! to s ing

All independent of the leafy spring.

Leave to the n i ght ingale her shady wood ;A pr i vacy of gl or ious l i gh t i s th ine,Whence thou dost pour upon the worl d a floodO f harmony

,with inst inct more d iv ine


Whose intense l amp narrows

In the wh i te dawn c lear,Until we hard ly see

, we feel that i t i s there.

All the earth and a i r

Wi th thy vo i ce i s l oud,As

,when n ight i s bare,

From one l onely c l oudThe moon ra ins out her beams, and heaven is over

flowed .

What thou art we know not

What i s most l ike thee ?

From ra inbow cl ouds there flow not

D rops so bright to see,

'

As from thy presence showers'

a ra in of mel ody.

L ike a poet h iddenIn the l ight of thought

,

S inging hymns unb i dden,

T i l l the world i s wrought

il'o sympathy w i th hopes and fears i t heeded not ;

L ike a h igh -born maiden

In a pa lace tower,

S ooth ing her l ove- l aden

S ou l in secret hour

With mus i c sweet as l ove,wh i ch overflows her.

bower ;

L i ke a gl ow -worm golden,

In a del l of dew,

S cattering unbeho lden

I ts aeri a l hue

Among the flowers and grass wh i ch screen i t from

the V iew ;


L ike a rose embowered

In i ts own green leaves,By warm w inds deflowered

,

T i l l the scent i t g i ves

Makes fa int w ith too much sweet these

winged th ieves .

S ound of verna l showers

O n the tw ink l ing grass,

R a in-awakened flowers,

A ll that ever was

Joyous and fresh and c lear thy musi c sur

pass .

Teach us,spr i te or b ird

What sweet thoughts are th ine ;I have never heard

Pra i se of l ove or w ine

panted forth a flood of rapture so d i v ine.

Chorus hymenea l ,O r tr i umphant chant

,

Matched wi th th ine,would be all

But an empty vaunt,

th ing wherein we fee l there i s some h iddenwant .

What objects are the founta ins

O f thy happy stra in?

What fiel ds,or waves

,or mountains ?

What shapes of sky or p la in ?

What l ove of th ine own k ind ? What ignoranceof pa in ?


Whose intense lamp narrows

In the wh i te dawn c lear,

tUntil we hard ly see, we feel that i t is there.

All the earth and air

Wi th thy vo i ce i s l oud,

As,when n i ght i s bare

,

From one l onely c l oudThe moon ra ins out her beams, and heaven is over

flowed .

What thou art we know not ;

What i s most l ike thee ?

From ra inbow cl ouds there flow not

D rops so bri ght to see,

'

As from thy presence showers-

a ra in of melody.

L ike a poet h iddenIn the l ight of thought

,

S inging hymns unb i dden,

T i l l the world i s wrought

fI'o sympathy w ith hopes and fears i t heeded not ;

L ike a h igh -born mai den

In a pa lace tower,

S ooth ing her l ove- l aden

S ou l in secret hour

With mus i c sweet as l ove,wh i ch overflows her.

bower ;

L ike a gl ow -worm golden,

In a del l of dew,

S catter ing unbeho ldenI ts aer ia l hue

'

Among the fl owers and grass wh i ch screen it from

the v iew ;


IVith thy clear, keen j oyanceLanguor cannot be :

Shadow of annoyance

Never come near thee

Thou lovest ; but ne’er knew love’s sad sat iety .

Wak ing or asleep,Thou of death must deem

Th ings more true and deep

Than we morta l s dream ,

how coul d thy notes flow in such a crystal

stream ?

We l ook before and after,

And p ine for what i s not ;Our s incerest laughter

Wi th some pa in i s fraught ;sweetest songs are those that tel l saddest

thought

Yet i f we cou l d scorn

H ate and pri de and fear,

I f we were th ings born

Not to shed a tear,

I know not how thy j oy we ever shou ld come near.

Better than a l l measures

Of del i ghtful sound,

Better than a l l treasures

That in books are found

Thy sk i l l to poet were, thou scorner of the ground !

Teach me hal f the gladness

That thv bra in mus t know,

ANIMATE NATUR E . 30 1

S uch harmon i ous madness

From my l ips would flow,

The worldi

shou ld l i sten then,as I am l i sten ing

now.

P ERCY B YSSH E SH ELLEY.

THE SKYLARK .

B IRD of the wi l derness,

Bl i thesome and cumber less,

Sweet be thy mat in o’er moorl and and lea !

Emblem of happ iness,

Blest i s thy dwel l ing -p lace,

O ,to ab i de in the desert Wi th thee !Wi l d i s thy lay and loud

Far in the downy c l oud,

Love gives i t energy,l ove gave i t b i rth .

IVhere, on thy dewy wing,Where art thou j ourney ing ?

Thy l ay i s in heaven ,thy l ove i s on earth .

O’er fel l and founta in sheen

,

O’er moor and mounta in green

,

O’er the red streamer that heral ds the day .

O ver the c l oud let d im,

O ver the ra inbow ’s r im

Mus i ca l cherub,soar

,S inging

,away !

Then,when the gloam ing comes

,

Low in the heather bl ooms

Sweet w i l l thv wel come and bed of l ove be !

E mblem of happiness,

Blest i s thy dwel l ing-place,

O,to ab i de in the desert w i th thee !

JAM E S H OGG.


I Vith thy c lear,keen j oyance

Languor cannot be

S hadow of annoyance

Never come near thee

Thou lovest ; but ne’er knew love’s sad sat iety .

Wak ing or asleep,

Thou of death must deem

Th ings more true and deep

Than we morta l s dream,

how coul d thy notes flow in such a crystal

stream ?

We l ook before and after,

And p ine for what i s not ;O ur s incerest laughter

Wi th some pa in i s fraught ;sweetest songs are those that tel l saddest

thought .

Yet i f we cou l d scorn

H ate and pr i de and fear,

I f we were th ings born

Not to shed a tear,

I know not how thy j oy we ever should come near.

Better than a l l measures

O f del ightful sound,Better than a l l treasures

That in books are found,

Thy sk i l l to poet were, then scorner of the ground !

Teach me ha l f the gladness

That thy bra in mus t know,


THE L ITTLE BEACH BIRD .

TH OU l i tt le b i rd, thou dwel ler by the sea,

Why takest thou i ts mel ancholy voi ce ?

W'

hy with that brood ing cry

O’er the waves dost thou fly ?

0 rather,bi rd

,with me

Through the fa i r l and rej o i ce !

Thy fl i tt ing form comes ghost ly d im and

As dr iven by a beat ing storm at sea ;Thy cry i s weak and scared

A S i f thy mates had shared.The doom of us . Thy wa i l

What does i t br ing to me ?

Thou call’st a l ong the sand

,and haunt

’st th

surge,

R est less and sad ; as i f, in strange accordI Vith mot i on and wi th roar

Of waves that dri ve to shore,

O ne Sp i ri t d i d ve urge

The Mystery— the lVord .

O f thousands thou both sepu l chre and pa l l ,O ld ocean. art ! A requiem o

’er the dead,

From out thv gl oomy cel l s,

A ta le of mourn ing tel l s,

Tel l s of man’s woe and fa l l,

H is S in less gl ory fled .


hen turn thee, l i tt le b i rd, and take thy fl ight

Where the compla in ing sea sha l l sadness br ingThy sp i r i t nevermore.

Come,qu i t wi th me the shore

,

or gl adness and the l ight

Where b i rds of summer S ing .

R ICH ARD H ENRY DANA.

THE SANDPIPE R .

'

AcRoss the narrow beach we fl i t

O ne l i tt le sandp iper and I ;

And fast I gather,b it by b i t

,

The scattered dr i ftwood bleached and dry .

The w i l d waves reach thei r hands for i t,

The wi l d w ind raves,the t i de runs h igh

,

As up and down the beach we fl i t,

O ne l i tt le sandp iper and I .

Above our heads the su l len c l ouds

S cud black and sw ift across the skyL ike si lent ghosts in misty shroudsS tand out the wh ite l ight -houses h i gh .

A lmost as far as eye can reach

I see the c l ose-reefed vessel s flyAs fast we fl i t a l ong the beach

,

One l i tt le sandp iper and I .

I watch h im as he sk ims a long,

Uttering h i s sweet and mournful cry ;He starts not at my fitful song,O r flash of flutter ing drapery ;


THE LITTLE BEACH BIRD .

TH OU l i tt le b i rd,thou dwel ler by the sea

,

Why takest thou i ts mel ancholy voi ce ?

W'

hy with that brood ing cry

O’er the waves dost thou fly

?

0 rather,b i rd

,with me

Through the fa i r l and rej o i ce !

Thy fl i tt ing form comes ghost ly d im and

As dr iven by a beat ing storm at sea ;Thy cry i s weak and scared

,

As i f thy mates had shared

The doom of us . Thy wa i l

What does i t br ing to me ?

Thou ca ll’st a l ong the sand and haunt

’st

surge,

R est less and sad ; as i f, in strange accordYVith mot i on and wi th roar

O f waves that dri ve to shore

O ne Sp ir i t d i d ve urge

The Mystery— the I Vord .

O f thousands thou both sepu l chre and pa l l ,O ld ocean. art ! A requiem o

’er the dead ,

From out thy gl oomy cel l s,A ta le of mourn ing tel l s

Tel l s of man’s woe and fa l l,

H is S in less gl ory fled .


He has no thought of any wrong,He scans me with a fear less eye .

S tanch fr iends are we, we l l tr ied and strong,The l i tt le sandp iper and I .

Comrade, where wi l t thou be to -n i ght

When the l oosed storm breaks fur iously ?

My dr i ftwood -fire wi l l burn so br ight !

To what warm she l ter canst thou fly ?

I do not fear for thee, though wroth

The tempest rushes through the skyFor are we not God ’s ch i l dren both ,Thou

,l i tt le sandp iper

,and I ?

CE L IA TH AX TER .

TO A VVATE RFOWL .

IVH IT H E R , midst fa l l ing dew,

\Vhile glow the heavens w ith the l ast steps

day ,

Far,through thei r rosy depths

,dost thou pursu

Thy sol i tary way ?

Va inly the fowler’s eye

Might mark thy di stant fl i ght to do thee wrong,

As,dark ly painted on the cr imson sky

,

Thy figure floats a long .

S eek’st thou the plashy brink

O f weedv l ake, or marge of ri ver w ide,O r where the rock ing bi l l ows ri se and s ink

O n the chafed ocean - s i de ?

ANIMA TE NATUR E . 305

There i s a Power whose care

eaches thy way a long that path less coast,he desert and i l l im i table a i r,Lone wander ing, but not l ost .

A ll day thy wings have fanned,

t that far he ight,the col d

,th in atmosphere

,

Yet stoop not, weary ,

to the wel come l and,

Though the dark n ight i s near .

And soon that to i l sha l l end ;S oon shal t thou find a summer home

,and rest

,

And scream among thy fe l l ows ; reeds sha l l bend,S oon

,o’er thy shel tered nest .

Thou ’rt gone

,the abvss of heaven

Hath swal l owed up thy form ; yet, on my heart

Deeply hath '

sunk the lesson thou hast g iven,

And Sha l l not soon depart :

He who,from zone to zone

,

Gui des through the bound less Sky thy certa in

fl i ght,

In the l ong way that I must tread a lone

IVill lead my steps aright .

WI LL IAM CULLEN BRYANT.

TO THE NIGHT INGALE .

O N I GH T I NGALE,that on yon bl oomy spray

Warblest at eve, when al l the woods are st i l l ,Thou w ith fresh hopes the l over ’s heart dost fi l l

,

V—2O


H e has no thought of any wrong,He scans me with a fearless eye .

S tanch fr iends are we,wel l tr ied and strong,

The l i tt le sandp iper and I .

Comrade, where wi l t thou be to -n i ght

When the l oosed storm breaks fur iously ?

My dri ftwood -fire w i l l burn so bri ght !

To what warm she l ter canst thou fly ?

I do not fear for thee,though wr

'

oth

The tempest rushes through the sky

For are we not God ’s ch i l dren both ,Thou

,l i tt le sandp iper

,and I ?

CE L IA THAXTER .

TO A WATE RFOWL .

IVH IT H E R , midst fa l l ing dew,

Wh i le gl ow the heavens w ith the l ast steps

day ,

Far,through thei r rosy depths

,dost thou purs

Thy so l i tary way ?

Vainly the fowler’s eye

Might mark thy d i stant fl i ght to do thee wrongA S

,dark ly pa inted on the cr imson Sky ,

Thy figure floats a l ong .

S eek’st thou the plashv brink

O f weedv l ake, or marge of ri ver w ide,O r where the rock ing bi l l ows ri se and S ink

O n the chafed ocean - s i de ?


Wh i le the j o l ly hours lead on prop i t i ous May .

Thy l i qu i d no tes, that c l ose the eye of day,First heard before the Sha l l ow cuckoo ’s b i l l

,

P ortend success in l ove. O h,i f Jove’s wi l l

Have l inked that amorous power to thy soft lay,Now t imely s ing

,ere the rude b i rd of hate

Foretel l my hopeless doom in some grove n igh

As thou from year to year hast sung too l ate

For my rel ief, yet hadst no reason why .

Whether the Muse or Love ca l l thee h i s mateBoth them I serve

,and of thei r tra in am I .

JOH N M I LTON .

THE NIGHT INGALE ’S SONG .

FROM MUS IC ’S DUEL .

Now westward Sol had spent the r i chest beams

O f noon’s h igh gl ory,when

,hard by the streams

Of T i ber,on the scene of a green plat

,

Under protecti on of an oak , there sat

A sweet l ute’s -master,in whose gent le a i rs

He l ost the day ’s heat and h i s own hot cares .

C l ose in the covert of the leaves there stoodA n i ght inga le

,come from the ne ighbor ing wood

(The sweet inhab i tant of each glad tree,Thei r muse, the i r S i ren

,harmless s i ren she)

There stood she l i sten ing,and d i d entertain

The musi c ’s soft report,and moul d the same

In her own murmurs ; that whatever moodH is curi ous fingers lent , her vo i ce made good .

Th i s lesson too

She gi ves them back her supple breast thri l l s ou


Sharp a i rs, and staggers in a warbl ing doubt

O f da l ly ing sweetness, hovers o’er her sk i l l

,

And fo l ds in waved notes , with a trembl ing b i l l ,The p l i ant series of her S l i ppery song ;Then starts she sudden ly into a throng

O f Short th i ck sobs,whose thunder ing vo l leys

float,

And rol l themsel ves over her l ubri c throat

In pant ing murmurs,st i l led out of her breast ;

That ever -bubbl ing spr ing,the sugared nest

O f her del i c i ous sou l,that there does l ie

Bath ing in streams of l i qu i d mel ody ;Musi c ’s best seed -p lot ; when in r ipened a i rs

A golden-headed harvest fa i rl y rears

H is honey - dropp ing tops p l oughed by her breathWh i ch there reciproca llv laboreth .

In that sweet so i l i t seems a holy qu i re,

S ounded to the name of great Apol l o ’s lyre ;Whose s i l ver roof r ings w ith the spright ly notes

O f sweet - l i pped angel - imps,that sw i l l their

throats

In cream of morn ing He l i con,and then

Prefer soft anthems to the ears of men

To woo them from the i r beds,st i l l murmur ing

That men can sleep wh i le they thei r mat ins s ing

(Most d iv ine serv i ce ) , whose so early lay

P revents the - eye l i ds of the b lush ing day .

T here m i ght you hear her k ind le her soft vo i ceIn the c l ose murmur of a spark l ing no i se ;And l ay the groundwork of her hopefu l song.

S t i l l keep ing in the forward stream so l ong,

T i l l a sweet wh i rlw ind ( str iv ing to get out )Heaves her soft bosom

,wanders round about

,


And makes a pretty earthquake in her breast,

T i l l the fledged notes at length forsake the i r nest,F l utter ing in wanton Shoa l s

,and to the sky

,

Winged w ith the i r own wi ld echoes,pratt l ing fly.

S he opes the floodgate, and lets l oose a t ideO f streaming sweetness

,wh i ch in state doth ride

O n the waved back of every swel l i‘ng stra in,

R i s ing and fa l l ing in a pompous tra in ;And wh i le She thus d ischarges a shr i l l peal

O f flash ing a i rs,she qua l ifies the i r zea l

IVith the coo l epode of a graver note ;T hus h igh

,thus l ow

,as i f her s i l ver throat '

.Woul d reach the brazen vo i ce of war’s hoarse

b i rd ;Her l i tt le sou l i s rav i shed

,and so poured

Into l oose ecstas ies,that

'

she ‘i s p lacedAbove hersel f

,music’s enthusi ast .

R ICHARD CRASHAW.

PH ILOME NA.

HARK ! ah , the ni ght inga le !

T he tawny -throated !0

H ark ! from that moon l i t cedar what a burst !What tri umph ! hark,— what pa in !0 wanderer from a Grec ian shore,S t i l l

,—after many years, in d i stant l ands,

S t i l l nour i sh ing in thy bewi l dered bra in

.That w i ld, unquenched, deep -sunken, O ld-world

pa in,

Say , wi l l i t never hea l ?

And can th i s fragrant l awn,

With its cool trees, and night,


In st i l l repeated c i rc les,screaming loud

,

The j ay,the p ie, and ev

’

n the bod ing owl,

That ha i l s the ri s ing moon,have charms for men.

S ounds inharmon i ous in themse l ves and harsh,

Yet heard in scenes where peace for ever reigns

And on ly there, p lease h igh ly for thei r sake.

W I LL IAM COWP ER.

RO BE RT OF L INCO LN .

MERR ILY swinging on brier and weed

Near to the nest of h i s l i tt le dame

O ver the mounta in - s i de or mead,

R obert of L inco ln i s tel l ing h i s name

Bob -o’- l ink

,

-bob -o"- l ink

,

Sp ink,spank

,Sp ink ;

Snug and safe i s that nest of Ours

H i dden among the summer flowers .

Chee,chee

,chee.

R obert of L inco ln i s gay ly dressed,lVearing a bright b lack wedding coat

'

“’h i te are h i s shou lders and whi te h i s crest,Hear h im ca l l in h i s merry note

Bob -o’- l ink

,bob -o

’- l ink

,

Sp ink,spank

,Sp ink ;

L ook,what a n i ce new coat i s m ine

S ure there was never a b i rd so fine.

Chee,chee. chee.

R oberto f L incoln’s Quaker w i fe,Pretty and quiet . wi th p la in brown wings,

ANIMATE NATUR E .

P ass ing at home a pat ient l i fe,

Broods in the grass wh i le her husband

Bob -o’- l ink

,bob -o

’- l ink

,

S p ink,Spank

,Sp ink ;

Brood,k ind creature ; you need not fear

T h ieves and robbers wh i le I am here .

Chee,chee

,chee.

Modest and Shy as a nun i s she,

O ne weak ch i rp IS her only note,Braggart and prince of braggarts i s he,Pouring boasts from h i s l i tt le throat

B Ob - O’- l ink

,bob -o

’- l ink ,

S p ink,spank

,sp ink ;

Never was I afra i d of man

Catch me,coward ly knaves

,i f you can .

Chee,chee

,chee.

S ix wh i te eggs on a bed of hay ,Flecked w i th purple, a pretty s ight !

There as the mother s i ts a l l day ,

R obert i s S inging w ith a ll his might

Bob -o’- l ink

,bob -o

’- l ink

S p ink,spank

,sp ink ;

Ni ce good w i fe, tha t never goes out ,

Keeping house wh i le I fro l i c about .

Chee ,chee ,

chee.

S oon as the l i tt le ones ch ip the she l l

S ix wide mouths a re open fo r food

R obert of L inco ln bes ti rs h im we l l ,

Gather ing seed for the hungry brood .

Bob -o’- l ink

,bob -o

’- l ink ,

S p ink , spank , sp ink ;

3 1 1


Th is new l i fe is l ikely to beHard for a gay young fel l ow l ike me.

Chee,chee

, chee.

R obert of L inco ln at length i s madeS ober w i th work

,and s i lent w i th care ;

O R i s h i s ho l i day garment l a i d,

H a l f forgotten that merry a i r,

Bob -o’- l ink

,bob -o

’- l ink

,

Sp ink,spank

,Sp ink ;

Nobody knows but my mate and I

Where our nest and our nest l ings lie.

Chee,chee

,chee.

S ummer wanes ; the ch i l dren are grown ;Fun and fro l i c no more he knows ;

R obert of L incoln’s a humdrum crone ;O ff he fl ies

,and we s ing as he goes

Bob -o’- link

,bob -o

’- 1 ink

,

Sp ink,spank

,sp ink ;

When you can p ipe that merry'

old strain,

R obert of L incoln,come back aga in.

Chee,chee, chee.

WI LL IAM CU LLEN B RYANT.

THE O ’LINCO LN FAMILY .

FLOCK of merry s inging-b i rds were sporting in

the grove

S ome were warb l ing cheer i ly , and some were

mak ing loveThere were B obolincon

, Wadolincon, Winterseeble

,Conqued le,


Happy ’S the woomg that

’s speed i ly do ing

,that ’

S

speed i ly do ing,

That ’s merry and over w i th the b loom of the

c l over !

B obol incon,Wadolincon Winterseeble, fo l l ow

,

fo l l ow me !”

W I LSON F LAGG.

TO THE LAP LAND LONGSPUR .

O H,thou north l and bobol ink

,

Look ing over S ummer ’s brinkUp to Winter, worn and d im

,

Peer ing down from mounta in r im,

S ometh ing takes me in thy note,

Qu iver ing w ing, and bubbl ing throat ;S ometh ing moves me in thy ways

B i rd,rej o i c ing in thy days

,

In thy upward -hover ing fl i ght .

In thy su i t of black and wh i te

Chestnut cape and c i rc led crown

In thy mate of speck led brown ;S urely I may pause and th inkO f my boyhood ’s bobo l ink .

S oar ing over meadows w i l d

(Greener pastures never sm i led ) ;R a in ing mus i c from above

,

Ful l of rapture , ful l of l ove ;Fro l i c

,gay and debona i r

,

ANIMATE NATUR E .

Yet not a l l exempt from care,

For thy nest i s in the grass,

And thou worriest as I pass ;But nor hand nor foot of mineS ha l l do harm to thee or th ine ;I , musing, on ly pause to th inkO f my boyhood ’s bobol ink .

But no bobol ink of mineE ver sang o

’er mead so fine

,

S tarred w i th fl owers of every hue,

Gold and purple,white and b lue ;

P a inted - cup,anemone

,

Jacob’S - l adder

,fleur-de- l i s

,

O rch id,harebel l

,shoot ing-star

,

Crane’s -b i l l,lup ine

,seen afar

P r imrose,poppy

,sax i frage

,

P i ctured type on Nature’s page

T hese and others here unnamed ,In north l and gardens

, yet untamed ,D eck the fiel d s where thou dos t s ing,Mount ing up on trembl ing wing ;

Wh i le in wi stfu l mood I th inkO f my boyhood ’s bobol ink .

O n Una laska ’s emera l d lea ,

O n l onely i sles in Ber ing S ea ,

0 1 1 far S i ber ia’s barren sho re ,

O n north A l aska’s tund ra fl oor,

31 5


At morn,at noon

,in pa l l id n ight

,

We heard thy song and saw thy fl i ght,Wh i le I , S igh ing, cou l d but th inkO f my boyhood ’s bobol ink .

JOH N BURROUGHS.

THE BOBOL INKS .

WH EN Nature had made al l her b i rds,

Wi th no more cares to th ink on,

She gave a r ipp l ing laugh,and out

There flew a B obolinkon.

She l aughed aga in ; out flew a mate ;A breeze of E den bore them

Across the fie l d s of Parad i se,

The sunr i se redden ing o’er them .

Incarnate sport and hol i day,

T hey flew and sang forever ;Thei r soul s through June were all in tune

,

T hei r w ings were weary never .

Thei r tr i be,st i l l drunk with ai r and l ight,

And perfume of the meadow,

Go ree l ing up and down the sky,

In sunsh ine and in shadow .

One springs from out the dew-Wet grass,

Another fol l ows after ;The morn i s thri l l ingWi th the i r songsAnd peal s of fa i ry l aughter .


What cadences of bubbl ing m irth,

Too qui ck for bar and rhythm !

What ecstas ies, too fu l l to keepCoherent measure with them !

0 cou ld I share,wi thout champagne

Or muscadel,your fro l i c

,

The glad del i r i um of your j oy,

Your fun unaposto l i c,

Your drunken j argon through the fields,

Your bobolinkish gabble,

Your fine Anacreont i c glee,

Your t ipsy revel ler’s babb le

Nay,let me not profane such j oy

Wi th s im i les of fo l ly ;N0 wine of earth coul d waken songsSo de l i cately jollv !

O bound less sel f- contentment,vo i ced

Infly ing a i r -born bubbles !

0 j oy that mocks our sad unrest,

And drowns our earth -born troubles !

H ope spr ings wi th you :I dread no more

D espondency ‘

and dulness ;For Good S upreme can never fa i l

T hat gives such perfect fulness .

The l i fe that floods the happy fiel ds

With song and l i gh t and co lor

Wi l l shape'

our l i ves to r i cher states,

And heap our measures ful ler .

CH R I STO PH ER P EARSE -CRANCH .

ANIMATE NATUR E .

THE MOCKING—BIRD .

HE d i d n’t know much musi c

When first he come a long ;An’ al l the b i rds went wonderin’

“7hy he d i d n’t s ing a song .

T hey primped thei r feathers in the sun,

An’ sung the i r sweetest notes ;

An’ musi c jest come on the run

From al l thei r purty throats !

But st i l l that b i rd was s i lent

In summer t ime an’ fa l l °

He jest set st i l l an’ l istened ,An’ he woul d n

’t s ing a t a ll !

But one n i ght when them songsters

Was t i red out an’ st i l l ,

An’the wind s ighed down the va l ley

An’ went creep in’ up the h i l l ;

When the s tars was a ll a - l remhle

In the d reamin ’ fie ld s 0’hlue .

An’the da isy in the darknes s

Fel t the fa l l in’ o ’

the dew.

There come a sound 0’

me lod v

NO morta l ever hea rd .

An ’a ll the bi rd s seemed s i ngin

'

From the th roa t n'

um ' swee t h i rd !

3 1 9


Then the other b i rds went Mayin’

In a land too fur to ca l l ;Fer there warn’t no use in staym

When one bi rd cou ld s ing fer all !

FRANK LEBB Y STANTON.

THE BLACKBIRD .

O BLACKB I RD ! s ing me someth ing wel lWh i le a l l the neighbors shoot thee round

,

I keep smooth p lats of fru i tfu l ground,

Where thou may ’st warble, eat, and dwel l .

The espa l iers and the standards all

Are th ine ; the range of l awn and park'

The unnetted’

black-hearts r i pen dark ;All th ine

,aga inst the garden wal l .

Yet, tho’ I spared thee a l l the spring

,

Thy sole del i gh t i s,s i tt ing st i l l

,

Wi th that gol d dagger of thy b i l lTo fret the summer jennet ing.

A golden bi l l ! the s i l ver tongue,

Cold February loved,i s dry

P lenty corrupts the mel odyThat made thee famous once

,when young ;

And in the su l try garden-squares,

Now thy flute-notes are changed to coarse,


0, when the night fa lls, and roasts the fowl,Then

,then

,is the reign of the horned owl !

'

And the ow l hath a br ide, who is fond and bold,

And l oveth the wood ’s deep gl oom ;And

,with eyes l ike the sh ine of the moonstone

co ld,

She awaiteth her ghastly groom '

Not a feather she moves,not a caro l she s ings

,

As she wa i ts in her tree so st i l l ;But when her heart heareth h i s flapp ing wings

,

She hoots out her wel come shr i l l !

0,when the moon shines

,and dogs do howl,

Then,then

,is the joy of the horned owl !

Mourn not for the owl,nor h i s gloomy pl ight !

The owl hath h i s share of good

If a pr i soner he be in the broad dayl ightHe i s l ord in the dark greenwood !

Nor lonelv the bi rd,nor h i s ghast ly mate

,

They are each unto each a pr ide ;T hri ce fonder

,perhaps

,s ince a strange

,dark fate

H ath rent them from al l bes i de !

S O,when the night fa lls . and dogs do howl,

S ing, ho ! for the reign Of the horned owl !

We know not a lway

Who are kings by day ,

B ut the king of the night is the bo ld brown

owl !

B RYAN WALLE R P R OCTE R (B arry Cornwa ll) .

ANIMATE NATURE . 323

THE DYING SWAN .

TH E pla in was grassy,wi ld and bare

,

Wi de, wi l d and open to the a i r,

Wh i ch had bu i l t up everywhere

An under - roof of do leful gray .

Wi th an inner vo i ce the r iver ran,

Adown i t floated a dy ing swan,

And l oud ly d i d l ament .

I t was the middle of the dav.

E ver the weary wind went on,

And took the reed -tops as i t went.

S ome bl ue peaks in the d istance rose

And wh i te aga inst the cold -wh i te sky

S hone out the i r crown ing snows .

O ne wi l l ow over the ri ver wept .

And shook the wave as the wind d id s igh ;

Above in the wind was the swa l low.

Chas ing i tsel f at its own wi l d wi l l .

And far th ro ’ the niar ish green and s ti l l

The tangled water- courses s lept.

S hot over w i th purple . and green . a nd ve llow.

The Wi l d swan’s dea th -h ymn to ok the so ul

O f that waste place wi th jo y

H i dden in sorrow :a t fi rs t to the ea r

The warble was low. and ful l and e lea r ;


And float ing about the under - sky,

P reva i l ing in weakness,the coronach stole

S omet imes afar, and somet imes anear ;But anon her awfu l j ub i l ant voi ce

,

Wi th a mus i c strange and man i fo l d ,Flowed forth on a caro l free and bold ;As when a mighty people rej o i ce

Wi th shawms,and wi th cymbal s

,and harps of

gold,

And the tumul t of thei r acc la im i s ro l ledThro’ the open gates of the c i ty afar,To the shepherd who watcheth the even ing star.

And the creep ing mosses and c l amber ing weeds,And the wi l l ow -branches hoar and dank

,

And the wavy swel l of the sough ing reeds,And the wave-worn horns of the echoing bankAnd the s i l very mari sh -flowers that throng

The deso late creeks and pool s among,

Were flooded over wi th eddy ing song.

ALFRED,LO RD TENNYSON .

THE HEATH—CO CK .

GOOD morrow to thy sable beakAnd glossy p lumage dark and sleekThy crimson moon and azure eye,

Cock of the heath,so w i l d ly shy

I see thee sly ly cower ing through

That wi ry web of s i l very dew,

That tw ink les in the morn ing air,

L ike easements of my l ady fa i r.


There ’s a human l ook in i ts swel l ing breast,

And the gent le curve of i ts l owly crest ;And I often stop w ith the fear I feel

,

He runs so c l ose to the rapi d wheel .

“’hatever is rung on that noi sy bel l,

Ch ime of the hour,or funera l knel l

,

The dove in the bel fry must hear i t wel l .

When the tongue sw ings out to the midnightmoon

,

When the sexton cheerly r ings for noonWhen the c l ock str ikes c lear at morn ing l i ght

,

W’

hen the ch i l d i s waked w ith “n ine at n i ght

,

”

When the ch imes p lay soft in the S abbath air.

Fi l l ing the sp i r i t w i th tones of prayer,

Whatever ta le in the bel l i s heard ,He broods on h i s fo lded feet unst i rred

,

O r,ri s ing hal f in h i s rounded nest

,

He takes the t ime to smooth h i s breast,

Then drops aga in,with fi lmed eyes

,

And s leeps as the l ast v i brat i on d ies .

Sweet b i rd ! I woul d that I cou ld be

A hermi t in the crowd l i ke thee !

Wi th w ings to fly to wood and '

glen'

.

Thy l ot, l i ke mine, i s cast w i th men ;

And da i ly,with unwi l l ing feet

,

I tread,l ike thee

, the crowded street,But

,un l i ke me

,when day i s o’

er

Thou canst d i sm i ss the world,and soar

O r,at a hal f-felt

'

wish for rest,

Canst smooth the feathers on thv breast,

And drop,forgetful

,to thy nest .

I woul d that in such w ings of gOld

I coul d my weary heart upifold


I woul d I cou ld l ook down unmoved

(Un l ov ing as I am unl oved ) ,And wh i le the worl d throngs on beneath

Smooth down my cares and ca lmly breathe ;And never sad wi th others ’ sadness

,

And never gl ad with others ’ gl adness

L i sten,unst i rred

,to knel l or ch ime

And, l apped in quiet , bide my t ime .

NATH AN IEL P ARKER WILL I S .

THE ENGL ISH ROBIN .

S E E yon robin on the spray ;

Look ye how hi s t iny form

Swel l s, as when his merry l ay

Gushes forth am id the storm .

Though the snow is fa l l ing fas t ,

S peck ing o’er h i s coat w i th wh ite ,

T hough l oud roars the ch i l ly blas t.

And the even ing ’s lost in night ,

Yet from out the da rknes s d rea r y

Cometh st i l l that cheerful no te ;

P ra i sefu l aye, and never weary ,

IS that l i tt le warbl ing th roa t.

Thank h im for h is les son’

s sake .

Thank God ’s gent le mins tre l the re .

Who, when storms make o the rs quake .

S ings of davs that brigh ter were .

H AnmsoN wmu.


AS IAN BIRD S .

IN th i s May-month , by grace

of heaven,th ings Shoot apace.

The wait ing mul t i tudeof fa i r boughs in the wood,

How few days have arrayedthei r beauty in green Shade !

What have I seen or heard ?i t was the yel l ow b i rd

S ang in the tree :he flew

a flame aga inst the b lue ;Upward he flashed . Aga in,hark ! ’

t i s h i s heaven ly stra in

Another ! Hush ! Behold ,many

,l ike boats of gold ,

F rom waving branch to branch

thei r a l ry bod ies launch .

What mus i c is l ike th i s,where each note i s a k i ss ?

The golden wi l l ows l i ftthei r bough s the sun to S i ft

Thei r s i lken streamers screenthe Sky with veils of green,

To make a cage of song,

where feathered l overs throng.

How the del i c i ous notescome bubbl ing from their throats !


AS IAN BIRD S .

IN th is May-month

,by grace

of heaven,th ings Shoot apace.

The wai t ing mul t i tudeof fa i r boughs in the wood

,

How few days have arrayedthei r beauty in green Shade !

What have I seen or heard ?i t was the yel l ow b i rd

S ang in the tree :he flew

a flame against the b lue ;Upward he flashed . Aga in

,

hark ! ’t i s h i s heaven ly stra in

Another ! Hush ! Behold,

many,l ike boats of gold

,

F rom waving branch to branch

thei r a i ry bod ies l aunch .

What mus i c i s l ike th i s,

where each note i s a k i ss ?

The golden wi l l ows l i ftthei r boughs the sun to s ift

Thei r s i lken streamers screen

the Sky with vei ls of green,To make a cage of song

,

where feathered lovers throng.

How the del i c i ous notescome bubbl ing from their throats !


Ful l and sweet,how they are shed

l ike round pearl s from a thread,

The moti ons of the i r fl ight

are wi shes of del i ght .

Hearing thei r song,I trace

the secret of thei r grace. .

'

Ah, cou ld I th i s fa i r t ime

so fash i on into rhyme,

The poem that I S ing

would be the vo i ce of spring .

ROB ERT SEYM OUR BR IDGES.

THE SCARLE T TANAGE R .

BALL of fire shoots through the tamarackn scarlet Splendor

,on voluptuous wings ;

ielirious j oy the pyrotechn i st br ings ,Vho marks for us h igh summer’s a lmanac .

[ow instantly the red - coat hurtles back !

to fiercer flame has flashed beneath the sky .

tote now the rapture in h i s caut ious eye,'he conflagration l i t a l ong his track .

Vinged sou l of beauty , trop i c il l des i re.

lby l ove seems al ien in our northern zone‘hou giv

’st to our green land s a burst o f ti re

.nd ca l lest back the fables we d i sown .

lhe hot equator thou m ights t we l l ins pi re ,

tr stand above some E astern Inona re ll’

s throne.

JOEL B ENT ON .


THE WINGED WOR SH IP PE R S .

[Addressed to two swallow s that flew into the Chaun

P lace Church during divine service.]

GAY,gui l t less pa i r

,

What seek ye from the fiel ds of heaven ?

Ye have no need of prayer ;Ye have no s ins to be forgiven.

Why perch ye here,Where mortal s to thei r Maker bend ?

Can your pure Sp i r i ts fear

The God ye never cou ld offend ?

Ye never knewThe cr imes for wh i ch we come to weep .

Penance i s not for you,

Blessed wanderers of the upper deep .

To you ’t i s g iven

To wake sweet Nature’s untaught l ays ;Beneath the arch of heaven

To ch i rp away a l i fe of pra i se.

Then Spread each wing

Far,far above

, o’er l akes and l ands

,

And j o in the cho irs that S ing

In you blue dome not reared with hands .

O r,if ye stay

To note the consecrated hour,

332 P OE MS OF NATURE .

THE FLIGHT OF THE GE E SE .

I H EAR the l ow wind wash the soften ing snow,

The l ow t i de l o i ter down the Shore. The n ight,Ful l fi l led w ith Apr i l forecast hath no l i ght .

The sal t wave on the sedge-flat pul ses S l ow .

Through the h id furrows l i sp in murmurous flow

The thaw ’s Shy min i sters ; and hark ! The height

O f cheaven grows wei rd and l oud w ith unseen

fl i ght

O f strong hosts prophesy ing as they go !

H igh through the drenched and hol l ow n igh t

thei r w ings

Beat northward hard on winter’s tra i l . The

sound

O f the i r confused and so lemn vo i ces,borne

Athwart the dark to thei r l ong arct ic morn,

Comes w i th a sanct i on and an awe profound

A bod ing of unknown,foreshadowed th ings .

CH ARLES G . D . ROB ERTS .

L INE S TO THE STORMY PE TRE L.

TH E l ark S ings for j oy in her own l oved l and,In the furrowed fiel d

,bv the breezes fanned ;

And so revel we

In the furrowed sea ,

As j oyous and glad as the l ark can be.

On the plac i d breast of the inl and l akeThe wi l d duck del i ghts her past ime to take ;


But the petrel braves

The wi ld ocean waves,

H is wing in the foaming b i l l ow he l aves .

The ha l cyon l oves in the noont ide beamTo fo l l ow h i s sport on the tranqu i l stream

He fishes at ease

In the summer breeze,But we go angl ing in storm iest seas .

No song -note have we but a p ip ing cry,That blends wi th the storm when the w ind i s h igh.

When the l and -bi rds wa i l

We sport in the ga le,And merr i ly over the ocean we sa i l .

ANONYMOUS .

ODE TO MOTHE R CAREY’S CH ICKEN .

ON SEE I NG A STORM -P ETREL I N A CAGE ON A COTTAGEWALL AND RELEAS I NG IT .

GAZ E not at me,my poor unhappy b i rd ;

That sorrow i s more than human in th ine eye ;

Too deep a lready i s my Sp i r i t st i rredTo see thee here

,ch i ld of the sea and sky ,

Cooped in a cage with food thou canst not eatThy

“ snow -flake ” so i led,and so i led those con

quer ing feet

That walked the b i l l ows, wh i le thy sweet-sweet

sweet

P roc la imed the tempest n igh .


THE FLIGHT OF THE GE E SE .

I H EAR the l ow wind wash the soften ing snow,

The l ow t ide l o i ter down the shore. The n ight,

Ful l fi l led with Apr i l forecast hath no l i ght .

The sa l t wave on the sedge-flat pul ses S l ow .

Through the h id furrows l i sp in murmurous flow

The thaw ’s Shy min i sters ; and hark ! The he ight

O f cheaven grows wei rd and l oud with unseen

fl i ght

O f strong hosts prophesy ing as they go !

H igh through the drenched and hol l ow n ight

the i r w ings

Beat northward hard on winter’s tra i l . The

sound

O f the i r confused and so lemn vo i ces,borne

Athwart the dark to thei r l ong arct i c morn,

Comes w i th a sanct i on and an awe profound

A bod ing of unknown,foreshadowed th ings .

CH ARLES G . D . ROB ERTS .

L INE S TO THE STORMY PE TRE L .

TH E l ark s ings for j oy in her own l oved l andIn the furrowed fiel d

,by the breezes fanned ;

And SO revel we

In the furrowed sea ,

As j oyous and glad as the l ark can be.

On the plac i d breast of the in l and l akeThe wi l d duck del i ghts her past ime to take ;


Bi rd whom I wel comed wh i le the sa i l ors cursed,Friend whom I blessed wherever keel s may

roam,

Prince of my ch i l d i sh dreams,whom mermaids

nursed

In purple of b i l l ows— s i l ver of ocean- foam,Abashed I stand before the mighty grief

That quel l s a l l other :S orrow ’s k ing and ch ief

To ri de the wind and hol d the sea in‘

fief,

Then find a cage for home !

From out thy j a i l thou seest yon heath and

woods,

But canst thou hear the bi rds or smel l the

flowers ?

Ah,

no ! those ra in-drops tw ink l ing on the

buds

Bring on ly v i s i ons of the sa l t sea -Showers .

The sea! ” the l innets p ipe from hedge and

heath ;“ The sea !

”the honeysuck les wh i sper and

breathe ;And tumbl ing waves

,where those wi ld - roses

wreathe,

Murmur from in l and bowers .

These winds so soft to others,— how they burn !

The mavi s s ings with gurgle and ripp le and

plash,

To thee yon swal l ow seems a wheel ing tern .

And when the ra in reca l l s the br iny lash,

O ld Ocean’s k i ss thou l ovest,— when thy S igh t

I s mocked with Ocean’s horses —manes of wh ite,


The l ong and shadowy flanks,the shou lders

bright

Bright as the l i ghtn ing’s flash,

When a l l these scents of heather and brier and

wh in,

A ll k ind ly breaths Of l and - Shrub,

flower,and

v ine,

Reca l l the sea - scents,t i ll thy feathered Sk in

T ingles in answer to a dream of br ine,

When thou,remember ing there thy roya l b i rth

D ost see between the bars a worl d of dearth ,I s there a grief— a grief on al l the earth

So heavy and dark as th ine ?

But I can buy thy freedom— I ( thank“’ho l oved thee more than a l ba tross or gul l ,

Loved thee when on the waves thy footsteps trod ,

D reamed of thee when,beca llned , we lay ahu l l

’T i s I thy fr iend who once, a ch i ld of S ix,

To find where Mother Carey fed her ch i cks ,Cl imbed up the stranded punt

,and with two

st i cks

T r ied a l l in m m to scul l ,

Thy . friend who owed a P arad ise of S torm ,

The l i t tle dreamer of the clill'

s and coves ,

Who knew thv mother, saw her shadowy form

Beh ind the cloudv bast ions whe re she moves ,

And heard her ca l l :“ Come ! for the wc lkin

th i ckens,

And tempests mutter and the l i ghtning qui ckens !

”


Then, start ing from h i s dream, would find the

ch i ckensWere on ly b lue rock -doves

,

Thy fr iend who owed another P arad i seO f ca lmer a i r, a float ing i s le of fru i t,Where sang the Nereids on a breeze of sp i ceWh i le T ri ton, from afar

,woul d sound sa lute

There wast thou winging, though the Sk ies wereca lm

,

For marvel l ous stra ins,as of the morn ing

’

s

sha lm,

Were struck by r ipp les round that i s le of palmWhose Shores were “ Carey ’s l ute .

”

And now to see thee here, my k ing, my k ing,Far -gl i ttering memories m i rrored in those eyes

,

AS i f there shone with in each i r i s -r ing

An orbed worl d— ocean and h i l l s and Sk ies !Those b lack wings ruffled whose tr i umphant

sweep

Conquered in Sport — yea, up the gl immeringsteep

O f h ighest b i l l ow,down the deepest deep

,

S ported wi th v i ctor ies !

To see thee here — a co i l of wi l ted weedsBeneath those feet that danced on d iamond

spray,

R i der of Sport i ve O cean’s rein less steedsWinner in Mother Carey ’s sabbath -frayWhen

,stung by magi c of the witch ’s chant

They rise, each foamy-crested combatant.They r ise and fa l l and leap and foam and ga l lop

and pant


Then, start ing from his dream, would find the

ch i ckensWere only b l ue rock -doves

,

Thy fr iend who owed another Parad i seO f ca lmer a i r, a float ing i sle of fru it

Where sang the Nerei ds on a breeze of sp i ceWh i le T r i ton, from afar

,woul d sound sa l ute

There wast thou winging, though the Sk ies wereca lm

,

For marvel l ous stra ins,as of the morn ing

’

s

sha lm,

Were struck by r ipp les round that i s le of palmWhose shores were Carey ’s l ute .

”

And now to see thee here,my k ing

,my k ing

,

Far -gl i tter ing memories m irrored in those eyes,

As i f there shone w ith in each i r i s-r ing

An orbed world— ocean and h i l ls and Sk ies !Those black wings ruffled whose tr i umphant

sweep

Conquered in sport — yea, up the gl immeringsteep

O f h ighest b i l l ow,down the deepest deep

,

S ported wi th vi ctor ies !

To see thee here —a co i l of wi l ted weedsBeneath those feet that danced on d iamond

spray,

R ider of Sport i ve O cean’s rein less steedsVVinner in Mother Carey ’s sabbath -frayWhen, stung by magi c of the witch ’s chantThey ri se

,each foamy- crested combatant

.They r i se and fa l l and leap and foam and gallopand pant


ill a l batross, sea - swal l ow,and cormorant

Woul d flee l ike doves away !

nd sha l t thou r ide no more where thou hast

r idden,

And feast no more in hyal ine hal l s and caves,

aster of Mother Carey ’s secrets h i dden,

Master most equa l of the wind and waves,

ho never,save in stress of angriest b last

,

Sked Sh ip for Shel ter,—never

,t i l l at l ast

he foam -flakes,hurled aga inst the s lop ing masts,

S l ashed thee l ike wh i rl ing gla ives !

ight home to fiel ds no seamew ever kenned,

Where scarce the great sea -wanderer fares w iththee

,

come to take thee—nay ,’t i s I , thy friend

Ah,tremble not— I come to set thee free ;

come to tear th i s cage from off th i s wal l ,nd take thee hence to that fierce fest i va l

here b i l l ows march and winds are mus i ca l ,Hymn ing the V i ctor - Sea !

ea,l i ft th ine eyes

,my own can hear them now

Thou ’rt free ! thou ’

rt free. Ah,surely a b ird

can smi le !

ost know me,Petrel ? D ost remember how

I fed thee in the wake for many a mi le

h i l st thou woul dst pat the waves , then , ri s ing,

takehe morsel up and wheel about the wake ?

hou ’rt free, thou

’rt free, but for th ine own dear

sakeI keep thee caged awh i le.


Away to sea ! no matter where the coast

The road that turns to home turns never wrong

Where waves run h igh my b ird wi l l not be l ostH is home I know : ’

t i s where the winds are

strong,

Wllere, on her throne of b i l l ows, ro l l ing hoary

And green and blue and sp lashed w ith sunny

glory.

Far,far from Shore— from farthest promontory

The mighty Mother S ings the tr iumphs of her

story,

S ings to my bi rd the song !

TH EODORE WATTS .

THE GRAS SHOPPE R AND CR ICKE T .

TH E poetry of earth i s never dead ;When a l l the b i rds are fa int w i th the hot sun

And h ide in cool ing trees,a VO Ice wi l l run

From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead.

That i s the grasshopper’s,— he takes the lead

In summer l uxury,— he has never done

Wi th h i s del i ghts ; for, when t i red out with fun,He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed .

The poetry of earth i s ceasing never .

O n a l one winter even ing,when the frost

Has wrought a S i lence,from the stove there

Shri l l s

The cri cket’s song,in warmth increas ing ever,

And seems,to one in drowsiness hal f l ost,

The grasshopper’s amongsome grassy h i l l s .

JOH N KEATS .


In the burn ing summer thou

Warb iest on the verdant bough,Medi tat ing cheerfu l p lay,M indless of the p ierc ing ray ;S corched in Cup i d ’s fervors

,I

E ver weep and ever d ie.

Proud to grat i fy thy w i l l,

R eady Nature wa its thee st il l ;Balmy wines to thee she pours

,

“’

eep ing through the dewy flowers,R i ch as those by Hebe g iven

To the th i rsty sons of heaven.

Yet,a l as

,we both agree.

Mi serable thou l ike me !

E ach,al ike

,in y outh rehearses

Gent le stra ins and tender verses ;E ver wander ing far from home

M indless of the days to come

( Such as aged Winter bringsT rembl ing on h i s i cy w ings ) ,Both a l i ke at l ast we d ie ;Thou art starved

,and SO am I !

WALTER H ARTE .

TO AN INSE CT .

I LOVE to hear th ine earnest vo i ce,Wherever thou art h i d

,

Thou testy l i tt le dogmat i st,

Thou pret ty Katyd i d !T hou m indest me of gent lefo lks

,

O ld gent lefo l ks are they,

ANIMATE NATURE .

Il‘hou say ’st an und i sputed th ingIn such a so lemn way .

Thou art a female,Katyd id !

I know i t by the tri l l

That qu ivers through thy p ierc ing

S o petu lant and shr i l l .

I th ink there i s a knot of youBeneath the ho l l ow tree

,

A knot of Sp inster Katyd i ds,

D O Katydi ds dr ink tea ?

O,tel l me where d id Katy l i ve

,

And what d i d Katy do ?

And was she very fa i r and young,And yet so w i cked too ?

D id Katy l ove a naughty man,

O r k i ss more cheeks than one ?

I warrant Kitty d id no more

T han many a Kate has done.

O L IVER WENDELL H O LME S.

THE FLY.

O CCAS IONED B Y A FLY DR I NK I NG O UT OF TH E

AUTH OR ’S CUP .

BUSY ,curi ous

,th i rsty fly

,

D r ink wi th me,and drink as I !

Freely wel come to my cup ,Couldst thou s ip and s i p i t l lpMake the most of l i fe you may ;L i fe i s short and wears away !

342 PO EMS OF NATURE .

Both a l ike , both mine and th ine,H asten qu i ck to thei r dec l ine !Th ine’s a summer ; mine no more,Though repeated to threescore !

Threescore summers, when they’re gone,

Wi l l appear as Short as one "

W I LL IAM OLDYS.

TO THE HUMBLE BE E .

BURLY,doz ing humblebee !

Where thou art i s c l ime for me ;Let me chase thy waving l ines ;Far -off heats through seas to seek

,

I w i l l fo l l ow thee a lone,

T hou an imated torr i d zone !

Z i gzag steerer,desert cll eerer

,

Let me chase thy wav ing l ines ;Keep me nearer

,me thy hearer

,

S inging over Shrubs and v ines .

Insect l over of the sun,

Joy O f thy domin i on !

S a i l or of the atmosphere ;Swimmer th rough the waves of

Voyager of l ight and noon,

E p i curean of June !

Wa i t , I pr i thee, t i l l I comeWi th in earshot of thy hum

All without i s martyrdom .

When the South -wind,in May days,

Wi th a net of sh in ing haze

344 PO EMS OE NATUR E .

See ing on ly what i s fa i r,S i pp ing on ly what i s sweet,

Thou dost mock at fate and care,

Leave the chad and take the wheat.

When the fierce northwestern b last

Cool s sea and l and so far and fast

Thou al ready S lumberest deep ;Woe and want thou canst outs leep

Want and woe, wh i ch torture us,Thy s leep makes r i d i cu lous .

RALP H WALDO EMERSON .

WILD HONE Y .

.WH ERE h ints of racy sap and gum

Out of the o ld dark forest come ;

Where b i rds thei r beaks l i ke hammers wield,And p i th i s p ierced and bark i s peeled ;

Where the green walnut’s outer r indG ives prec ious b i tterness to the wind

There l urks the sweet creat i ve power,As l urks the honey in the fl ower.

In winter’s bud that bursts in spr ing,In nut of autumn’s r ipen ing

,

In acr i d bu lb beneath the mol d,S leeps the el i x i r

,strong and o l d,


That R osi cruc ians sought in va in,

L i fe that renews i tsel f aga in !

What bott led perfume i s SO good

As fragrance of sp l i t tu l ip -wood ?

What fab led dr ink of god or MuseWas r i ch as purp le mulberry - j u i ce ?

And what schoo l -pol i shed gem O f thought

I s l ike the rune from Nature caught ?

He i s a poet strong and true

Who l oves w i l d thyme and honey -dew ;

And l ike a brown bee works and S ings,

Wi th morn ing freshness on h i s wings,

And a gol d burden on h is th ighs,

The po l len -dust of centur ies !

MAUR ICE T IIOM P SON .

A MOR E ANCIENT MAR INE R .

TH E swarthy bee i s a buccaneer ,A burly vel veted rover,Who l oves the boom ing wind in h is ear

As he sa i l s the seas of c l over.

A wa i f of the gobl in p i rate crew

Wi th not a soul to deplore l l l l l l ,

He steers for the O pen verge of blue

Wi th the fi lmy worl d before h im .


H is fl imsy sa i l s abroad on the wind

Are sh i vered w i th fa i ry thunder ;On a l ine that s ings to the l ight of h i s w ings

He makes for the lands of wonder .

He harr ies the ports of the H o l lyhocks,

And lev ies on poor Sweetbr ier ;He dr inks the wh i test wine of Ph lox

,

And the R ose i s h i s des i re.

H e hangs i ll the Wi l l ows a n ight and a day ;He r ifles the buckwheat patches ;Then battens h i s store of pe l f ga l ore

Under the tautest hatches .

He woos the P Oppy and weds the P each ,Inveigles D affod i l ly

And then l i ke a tramp abandons each

For the gorgeous Canada L i ly .

There ’S not a sou l in the garden world

But w i shes the day were shorter,

When Mariner B . puts out.

to sea

Wi th the wind in the proper quarter .

O r,so thev say ! But I have my doubts ;

For the flowers are on ly human,

And the va l or and go l d of a vagrant bo ldWere a lways dear to woman .

He dares to boast , a l ong the coast,The beauty of H igh land Heather

,

How he and She,with n i gh t on the sea

,

Lay out On the h i l l s together .


He steers and steers on the s lant of the gale,

L ike the fiend or Vanderdecken ;And there ’

S never an unknown course to sailBut h i s crazy l og can reckon .

He drones a long with h i s rough sea -songAnd the th roat of a sa l ty tar

,

Th i s dev i l -may - care,t i l l he makes his lair

By the l ight of a yel l ow star .

He l ooks l ike a gent leman,l i ves l ike a lord

,

And works l ike a T rojan hero ;Then l oafs a l l w inter upon h i s hoard

,

Wi th the mercury at zero .

B L I SS CARMAN .

TO A LOUSE .

ON SEE I NG ONE ON A LADY ’S B ONNET AT CH URCH .

HA ! whare ye gaun, ye crawlin’ fer l ie ?

Your impudence protects you sa i rly :

I canna say but ye strunt rarely

Owre gauze an’ l ace ;

T hough,fa i th ! I fear ye d ine but sparely

On S ic a p lace.

Ye ugly , creepin’

,blastit wonner ,

D etested,shunned by saunt an’

S inner,

How dare you set your fit upon her,Sae fine a ladv ?

Gae somewhere el se,and seek yo

'

ur d innerOn some poor bod y .


Swith,in some beggar-’S haffet squatt le

,

There ye may creep and Sprawl and spratt le

Wi’ i ther k indred, j ump ing catt le,In Shoa l s and nat i ons

Whare horn nor bane ne’er daur unsett le

Your th i ck p lantat ions .

Now hand you there, ye’re out 0 ’

S ight

Bel ow the fatt ’rel s, snug an’ t ight ;

Na,fa i th

, ye yet ! ye’1 1 no be r ight

T i l l ye’ve got on i t,

The very tapmost tow’ring height

O ’ Mi ss’s bonnet .

My sooth ; r ight bauld ye set your nose

As pl ump and gray as ony grozet°

O for some rank,l'

nercuria l rozet

O r'

fe l l,red S lneddulu !

I ’d gie you S ic a hearty dose o’

t,

Wad dress your droddum !

I wad na been surpri sed to spy

You on an aul d w i fe’s llannen toy ;

O r a ibl ins some b i t dudd ie boy ,

O n’s wyl iecoa t ;

But Mi ss’s fine Lunard i, tie!

Il ow daur ye do’

t?

0 Jenny, d inna toss your head ,

An’set your beauties a

’abread !

Ye l i tt le ken what cursed speed

The b last ie’s mak in"

Thae winks and finger-ends , I dread ,

Are not i ce tak in’

!


O wad some power the gi ft ie gie us

To see oursel ’s as others see us !

I t wad frae mon ie a blunder free us,

And foo l i sh not i on :

What a i rs in dress an’ ga i t wad lea ’e

And ev’n devot i on !

ROBERT B URNS .

TO A MOUSE .

I

ON TURN ING H E R UP I N H E R NEST W ITH T H E P LOUGHNOVEM B ER

, 1 785 .

WE E,S leek i t

,cowerin ’

,t imorous beast ie

,

0,what a pan i c ’

S in thy breast ie !

Thou needna start awa sae hasty,

NVi’ b i ckering bratt le !

I wad be l a i th to r in an’ chase thee

,

W’

i’ murder ing patt le !

I ’m tru ly sorry man’

s domin i on

Has broken nature’s soc ia l un i on

An’ j ust ifies that i l l op in i on'Wh i ch makes thee start le

At me,thy poor earth -born compan i on

,

An’ fel l ow -morta l !

I doubtna,why les , but thou may th ieve

W'

hat then ? poorb eastie, thou maun l i ve !

A da imen - i cker* in a thrave t’S a sma’ request ;

An ear of corn .

J[ Twenty

- four Sheaves .


But,och ! I backward cast my e

’e

O n prospects drear ;An

’ forward,though I canna see

,

I guess an’ fear .

ROBERT BURNS.

THE HOUSE KE E P E R‘

.

N

TH E fruga l sna i l , with forecast of repose,Carries h i s house with h im where’

er he goes ;P eeps _out,

—and i f there comes a shower of rain,R etreats to h i s sma l l dom ic i le aga in.

T ouch but a t i p of h im,a horn

,—’t i s wel l

,

He curl s up in h i s sanctuary shel l .

He’s h i s own l and lord , h i s own tenant ; stay

Long as he wi l l,he dreads no Quarter D ay .

H imsel f he boards and l odges ; both inv i tesAnd feasts h imsel f ; S leeps wi th h imsel f 0

’n i ghts.

He spares the uphol sterer trouble to procure

Chattel s h imsel f i s h i s own furn i ture,

And h i s sole r i ches . Wheresoe’er he roam,

Knock when you w i l l,— he ’

S sure to be at home.

CHARLES LAMB .

REMONSTRANCE WITH THE SNAILS .

YE l i tt le sna i l s,

Wi th S l i ppery ta i l s,

Who no i selessly travel

A l ong th i s gravel,

By a s i l very path of S l ime uns i ght ly,

I learn that you v i s i t my pea -rows n ightly.

ANIMATE NATUR E 353

Fel on i ous your Vi s i t,I guess !

And I give you th i s warn ing,

That,every morn ing

,

I ’ll str i ct ly examine the pods ;

And i f one I h i t on,

Wi th S l aver or Sp i t on,

Your next meal w i l l be with the

I own you ’re a very anc ient race

,

And Greece and Babylon were amid ;You have tenanted many a royal dome

And dwel t in the oldest pyram id ;The source of the Ni le ! —O

,you have been there !

In the ark was your flood less bed '

On the moon less n ight of Marathon

You craw led o’er the mighty dead ;

But st i l l,though I reverence your ancest ries ,

I don’t see why you Should n i bble lny peas .

The meadows are yours,— thc hedgerow and

brook,

You may bathe in thei r dews a t mo rn ;

B y the aged sea you may sound vou r shells ,

O n the mounta ins erect your born

The fru i ts and the fl owers a re vou r righ tful

dowers .

Then why— ln the name of wonde r

S houl d my S ix pea- rows be the on ly cause

To exc i te your midn igh t pl under ?

I have never d is turbed you r s lende r she l ls ;

You have hung round m y aged wa l k :

And ea ch m ight h ave sa t. ti l l he d ied il l h is

Beneath h i s own cabbage - sta l k :

V—23


But now you must fly from the so i l of your sires

Then put on your l i vel iest craw l,

And th ink of your poor l i tt le sna i l s at home,

Now orphans or emigrants a l l .

Utens i l s domest i c and c i v i l and soc i a lI gi ve you an even ing to pack up ;

But i f the moon of th i s n i ght does not r i se on

your fl i ght,

To morrow I ’ll hang each man Jack up .

You’1 1 th ink of my peas and your th ievi sh tr icks,

Wi th tears of S l ime,when cross ing the S ign.

ANONYMOUS .

THE T IGE R .

T I GER ! T i ger ! burn ing bright,

In the forests Of the n ight ;What immorta l hand or eye

Coul d frame thy fearful symmetry ?

In what d i stant deeps or Sk iesBurned the fire of th ine eyes ?

O n what w ings dare he asp i re ?

IVhat the hand dare se i ze the fire ?

And what shoulder,and what art

,

Coul d twi st the S inews of th ine heart ?

And when thy heart began to beat,

I Vhat dread hand ? and what dread feet ?

I Vhat the hammer,what the cha in ?

In what furnace was thy bra in ?


.Then bend your gaze across the waste,—what see

ye? The girafie,

Majest i c, sta lks towards the l agoon, the turb id

lymph to quafi ;Wi th outstretched neck and tongue adust

,he

kneel s h im down to coo l

H is hot th i rst w i th a we l come draught from the

fou l and brack i sh poo l .

A rustl ing sound,

-a roar,a bound

,— the l i on s i ts

astr ide

Upon h i s gi ant courser’s back . D id ever k ing so

ri de ?

Had ever k ing a steed so rare,capari sons of state

To match the dapp led sk in whereon that r i der S i tsel ate ?

In the muscles of the neck h i s teeth are p lungedwi th ravenous greed ;

H is tawny mane i s toss ing round the withers of

the steed .

Up leap ing wi th a hol l ow vel l of angu i sh and

surpr i se,

Away,away

,in w i ld d i smay

,the cameleopard

fl ies .

H is feet have wings ; see how he spr ings across the

moon l i t p l a in !

As from thei r sockets they woul d burst,h i s gl ar

ing eyebal l s stra in

In th i ck bl ack streams of purl ing bl ood , fu l l fasth i s l i fe i s fleet ing ;

The st i l lness of the desert hears h i s heart ’s tu~

multuous beat ing.


ike the c l oud that,through the wi lderness

, the

path of I srael traced,

ike an a iry phantom,dul l and wan, a Sp i ri t of

the waste,

rom the sandy sea upri s ing,as the water-spout

from ocean,

A wh i rl ing cl oud of dust keeps pace with the

courser’s fiery mot ion.

Croak ing compan i on of thei r fl i ght,the vulture

wh i rs on h igh :

Bel ow,the terror of the fo l d

,the panther fierce

and S ly ,

And hyenas fou l,round graves that prowl

,j o in

in the horri d race ;By the footprints wet with gore and sweat

,the i r

monarch ’s course they trace .

They see h im on h i s l i v ing throne,and quake with

fear,the wh i le

Wi th cl aws of steel he tears p iecemea l h is

cush ion’s pa inted p i le.

O n !'

on ! no pause, no res t , gi rad'

o,wh i le l i fe and

strength rema in !

The steed by such a rider backed lnav mad ly

pl unge in va in .

Reel ing upon the desert ’s Verge ,he fa l l s , and

breathes h i s l ast ;The courser , sta ined wi th dus t and foam . is the

ri der’s fel l repast .

O ’er Madagasca r , eastwa rd

‘

fa r. a fa int llush is

descr ied :

Thus n i ght ly ,o’er his broad doma in , the k ing of

beasts doth ride .

F rom the German of F E R D l NAN l )


FODDE R—T IME .

FROM SONGS OF TO I L .

How sweet the manger smel l s ! The cows all

l i sten

Wi th outstretched necks,and with impat ient

l owing ;They greet the c l over

,thei r content now show

ing

And how they l i ck the i r noses t i l l they gl i sten !

The vel vet - coated beaut ies do not l angu i shBeneath the morn ing’s golden l i gh t that ’

S

break ing,

The unexhausted spr ing of l i fe awak ingT hei r golden eyes of ve l vet fu l l of angui sh .

T hey pat ient ly endure the i r pa ins . Bestow ing

The i r sympathy,the other cows are ru ing

T hei r unproduct ive udders,and renewing

At mi lk ing- t ime the i r l abor and thei r l owing.

And now I must decei ve the darl ing bossy ,Wi th hand in mi lk must make i t suck my finger.

I ts tender l i ps c l ing cl ose l ike j oys that l inger,And feel so warm with dri pp ing wh ite and flossy.

T hi s very hand my people wi th devot i on

D o k i ss,—Wh i ch pa ints and pl ays and wri tes

,

moreover,

I woul d i t had done naught but p i le the c l over

To feed the k ine that know no base emot i on !

From the German ofO

CARME N SYL VA, Queen of R oumania .

Translation of JOHN E L IO T B OWE N .


L ike a string of crysta l beads .

See the heavy cl ouds low fa l l ing

And bright Hesperus down cal l ingThe dead n i ght from underground ;At whose ri s ing, mists unsound,D ampsand vapors

,fly apace

,

And hover o’er the sm i l ing face

O f these pastures ; where they come,S tr i k ing dead both bud and bl oom .

Therefore from such danger l ockE very one h i s l oved flock ;And let y our dogs lie l oose without,Lest the wol f come as a scout

From the mounta in,and ere day

,

Bear a l amb or k id away ;O r the crafty

,th iev i sh fox

,

Break upon your s imp le flocks .

To secure yoursel f from these,

B e not too secure in ease ;So shal l you good Shepherds prove

,

And deserve your master’s love .

Now,good n i ght m ay sweetest sl umbers

And soft S i lence fa l l in numbers

On your eyel i d s . So farewel l

Thus I end my even ing knel l .B EAUM ONT AND FLETCH ER.

BE TH GELE RT .

TH E spearmen heard the bugle sound,

And cheeri ly smi led the morn ;And many a brach

,and many a hound

,

Obeyed L lewel lyn’s horn.

ANIMATE NATURE . 36 1

And st i l l he b lew a louder b last,

And gave a lust ier cheer,

Come, Gelert, come, wert never last

L lewel lyn’s horn to hear .

O,where does fa i thful Gelert roam

,

The flower of a l l h i s race ;So true

,so brave

,—a l amb at home

,

A l i on in the chase ? ”

In sooth,he was a peerless hound

The gi ft of royal John ;B ut now no Gelert cou ld be found,And al l the chase rode on .

That day L lewel lyn l i tt le l oved

The chase of hart and hare°

And scant and smal l the booty proved

For Gelert was not there .

Unpleased , L lewel lyn homeward h ied ,

When,near the porta l sea t

H is truant Gélert he espied ,

Bound ing h i s l ord to greet .

But,when he ga ined h is cas tle-door.

Aghast the Ch iefta in stood ;

The hound al l o ’er was smeared wi th gore ;

H is l i ps , his fangs , ran bl ood .

L lewel lyn gazed w i th fierce su rpri se ;

Unused such l ook s to meet .

H is favori te checked h is j oyful gu i se,And crouched , and l i cked his feet .


Onward,in haste

,L lewel lyn passed

,

And on went Gélert too ;And st i l l

,where’er h i s eyes he cast

,

Fresh b lood -gouts Shocked h i s V iew .

O’erturned h i s infant’s bed he found

,

Wi th b lood - sta ined covert rent ;And a l l around the wal l s and groundWi th recent b lood besprent .

He ca l led h i s ch i l d,—no vo i ce repl ied

,

He searched wi th terror w i l d

B lood,b lood he found on every S i de

,

But nowhere found h i s ch i l d .

He l l -hound ! my ch i l d ’S by thee devoured

,

’

The frant i c father cr ied ;And to the h i l t h i s vengefu l sword

H e p lunged in Gelert’s s ide.

Aroused by Gélert’s dy ing yel l ,S ome s lumberer wakened n igh

What words the parent’s j oy cou ld tel lTo hear h i s infant ’s cry !

Concealed beneath a tumbled heapH is hurr ied search had mi ssed

All glow ing from h i s ros'

y S leep

The cherub boy he k i ssed .

Nor scathe had he, nor harm ,nor dread,

But,the same couch beneath,

Lay a gaunt wol f,al l torn and dead,

T remendous st i l l in death .


But thou,instead

,hast found

The sun less Apri l upl ands underground,And st i l l

,wherever thou art

,I must be.

My beauti fu l ! ar i se in might and mirth ,For we were tameless travel lers from Our b i rthAr i se aga inst thy narrow door of earth

,

And keep the watch for me.

LOU I SE IM OGEN GU INE Y.

HE LVE LLYN

[In the spring of 1 805 , a young gentlem an of talents,

and of a most am iable d isposition , perished by losing his

way on the m ounta in H elvellyn . H is rem a ins were not

discovered till three months afterwards , when they were

found guarded by a fa ithful terrier , h is constant atten

dant during frequent solitary ram bles through the wilds

of Cumberland and VVestmorelandJ

I CL IM BED the dark brow of the mighty Hel ve l lyn,

Lakes and mounta ins beneath me gleamed m isty

and wide

A ll was st i l l,save

,by fits

,when the eagle was

yel l ing,

And start ing around me the echoes repl ied .

O n the r ight,S triden E dge round the R ed Tarn

was bend ing,

And Catched icam i ts left verge was defend ing,

O ne huge nameless rock in the front was ascendins,

When I marked the sad spot where the wan

derer had d ied .

D ark green was that spot m id the brown moun

tain heather,


Where the Pi lgr im of Nature l ay stretched indecay .

ike the corpse of an outcast abandoned to

weather,

T i l l the mounta in winds wasted the tenant less

c lay ;ot yet qu itedeserted , though lonely extended

,

For,fa i thfu l in death

,h i s mute favor i te attended

,

.The much - l oved remains of her master defended

And chased the h i l l -fox and the raven away .

How l ong d id st thou th ink that h i s S i lence was

S l umber ?

When the wind waved his garment , how oft

d i dst thou start ?

How many long days and l ong n i ghts d idst thou

number

E re he faded before thee,the friend of thy

heart ?

And,O

,was i t meet that— no requ iem read o

’er

h im,

No mother to weep,and no friend to deplom ll il l l

,

And thou,l i tt le guard ian, a l one s tretched before

Unhonored the Pi lgrim from l i fe should depa rt ?

When a pr ince to the fa te of the peasant has

y ielded,

The tapestry waves dark round the d im - l ighted

ha l l,

Wi th ’S cutcheons of s i l ver the cotlin is sh ie lded ,

And pages stand mute by the canop ied pa l l

Through the courts , at deep midnigh t, the torches

are gleaming ;


In the proud ly arched chape l the banners are

beaming '

Far adown the l ong a i s le sacred musi c i s streaming,

Lament ing a Ch ief of the Peop le shoul d fa l l .

But meeter for thee,gentle l over of nature,

To lay down thy head l ike the meek mounta inlamb

,

When,wi l dered

,he drops from some c l i ff huge in

stature,

1

And draws h i s last sob by the S i de of h i s dam .

And more stately thy couch by th i s desert lakely ing

,

Thy Obsequ ies sung by the gray pl over fly ing,Wi th one fa i thful friend but to wi tness thy dy ing

,

In the arms of Hel vel lyn and Catched icam .

S IR WALTER SCOTT .

THE ARAB TO H IS FAVOR ITE STE E D .

MY beauti fu l ! my beaut i ful ! that standest meek lyby.

Wi th thy proudly arched and gl ossy neck,and

dark and fiery eye,

Fret not to roam the desert now,with a l l thy

w inged Speed

I may nOt mount on thee aga in,— thou ’

rt soldmy Arab steed !

Fret not wi th that impat ient hoof, —snuff not the

breezy w ind,

The farther that thou fl iest now,so far am I be

h ind ;


And when I ra i se my dreaming arm to check or

cheer thy speed,

Then must I,start ing

,wake to feel

,— thou ’

rt

sold,my Arab steed !

Ah ! rudely then, unseen by me, some cruel handmay ch i de

,

T i l l foam -wreaths lie,l ike crested waves

,a l ong

thy pant ing S i de :

And the r i ch bl ood that ’S in thee swel l s

,in thy

ind ignant pa in,

T i l l care less eyes,wh i ch rest on thee

,may count

each start ing vein .

[Wi ll they i l l -use thee ? I f I thought— but no,i t

cannot be,

Thou art so sw ift, yet easy curbed ; so gent le,

’

yet

so free :

And yet, i f haply, when thou’rt gone

,my

’

lonely

heart Shoul d yearn,

Can the hand wh i ch casts thee from it now com

mand thee to return ?

R eturn ! a las ! my A rab steed ! what Sha l l thymaster do

,

When thou,who wast h i s all -

of j oy,hast van i shed

from h i s View ?

When the d im d i stance cheats m ine eye, and

through the gathering tears

Thy bright form,for a moment, l ike the fal se

mirage appears ;S l ow and unmounted shal l I roam

,with weary

step al one,

Where, wi th fleet step and j oyous bound, thouoft hast borne me on:


d s i tt ing down by that green wel l,I ’ll pause

and sad ly th ink,

t was here he bowed h i s glossy neck when last

I saw h im dr ink ! ”

hen last I saw thee drink !— Away ! the fevered

dream i s o’er

,

cou ld not l i ve a day,and know that we should

meet no more !

ey tempted me,my beaut iful — for hunger’s

power i s strong,

hey tempted me, my beaut i fu l ! but I have l ovedtoo long .

ho sa id that I had given thee up ? who sa i d that

thou wast so l d ?

i s fa l se,— ’t i s fa l se, my Arab steed ! I fl ing

them back the i r gold !‘hus

,thus

,I leap upon thy back , and scour the

d i stant p la ins ;tway ! who overtakes us now sha l l c la im thee for

h i s pa ins !

CARO L I NE EL I Z AB ETH SARAH NORTON .

THE BLOOD HOR S E .

GAMARRA i s a da inty s teed ,

S trong,black

,and of a noble breed ,

Ful l of fire,and ful l of bone ,

Wi th a l l h i s l ine of fa thers known ;Fine h i s nose, h i s nos tri ls th in ,

But bl own abroad by the pride wi th in !

H is mane i s l ike a river fl owing ,

And h i s eyes l ike embers glowing‘

V—24


In the darkness of the n i ght,And h i s pace as sw i ft as l ight.

Look,— how round h i s stra in ing throat

Grace and sh ift ing beauty float ;S inewy strength i s in h i s re ins

,

And the red b lood ga l l ops through h i s veinsR i cher

,redder

,never ran

Through the boast ing heart of man.

H e can trace h i s l ineage h igher

Than the Bourbon dare asp i re,

D ouglas,Guzman

,or the Guel ph ,

O r O’B rien

’s b lood i tsel f !

He,who hath no peer

,was born

Here,upon a red March morn .

But h i s famous fathers deadWere Arabs a l l

,and Arab -bred

,

And the l ast of that great l ine

T rod l ike one of a race d i v ine !And yet,

—he was but friend to oneWho fed h im at the set of sun

By some l one founta in fr inged w i th green ;Wi th h im

,a rov ing Bedou in

,

He l ived (none el se would he obey

Through al l the hot Arab ian day ) ,And d ied untamed upon the sands

Where Balkh amidst the desert stands .

B RYAN WALLER PROCTER (B arry Cornwa ll) .


I s thar,old gal ? Ch iqu ita, my darl ing, my

beauty !

Feel of that neck,s i r

,— thar ’s vel vet ! Whoa !

S teady— ah , wi l l you ? you v ixen !

Whoa ‘

! I say . Jack,trot her out ; let the gent le

man l ook at her paces .

Morgan — S lle a in ’t noth in’el se, and I We got the

“ papers to prove i t .

S i red by Ch ippewa Ch ief, and twel ve hundred do llars won’t buy her.

Briggs of Tuo lumne owned her. D id you knowBriggs of Tuo lumne ?

Busted h i ssel f in Wh i te Pine, and blew out his

bra ins down in ’Fri sco .

Hedn’t no savey

,— hed Briggs . Thar

,Jack !

that ’1 1 do,—qu i t that fool in’

Noth in’ to what she kin do when She ’s got her

work cut out before her.

H osses is hosses,you know

,and l ikewise

,too

,

j ockeys i s j ockeys ;And ’ta in’t every man as can r ide as knows what

a boss has got in h im .

Know the ol d ford on the Fork,that nearlv got

Flan i gan’s leaders ?

Nasty in day l ight,you bet, and a mighty rough

ford in l ow water !

Wel l , i t a in’t S ix weeks ago that me and the Jedge,

and h is nevey,

S truck for that ford in the n i ght,in the ra in, and

the water a l l round us :

Up to our flanks in the gul ch,and R att lesnake

Creek j ust a b i l in’.


ot a p lank left in the dam,and nary a bridge on

the r i ver.

had the gray,and the Jedge had h i s roan, and

h i s nevey,Ch iqu i ta ;

nd after us trund led the rocks jest‘

loosed from

the top of the canon.

ickity ,lickity , sw i tch , we came to the ford , and

Ch iqu i taBuck led ri ght down to her work

,and afore I could

yel l to her r i der,

Took water jest at the ford,and there was the

Jedge and me stand ing,

And twe l ve hundred do l l ars of hoss -flesh afloat

and a driftin’ to thunder !

Wou l d ye b ’lieve i t, that n igh t,that hoss — that

’

ar’ fi lly ,— Ch iqu i ta,

Walked hersel f into her sta l l,and stood there

a l l qu iet and dripp ing !Clean as a beaver or rat

,with nary a buck le of

harness,

Just as she swam the Fork ,— that hoss, that ar’

fi l ly,Ch iqu i ta .

That ’s what I ca l l a boss ! and— what d i d yousay ? O

,the nevey ?

D rownded,I reckon

,-leastways

,he never kem

back to deny i t .Ye see the derned fool had no seat,— ye cou ld

n’t have made him a r i der ;

And then, ye know,boys w i l l be boys, and hosses

—wel l,hosses i s hosses !

B RET HARTE .


I s thar,old ga l ? Ch iqu ita

,my darl ing

,my

beauty !

Fee] of that neck,s i r

,-thar ’s vel vet ! Whoa

S teady— ah,wi l l you ? you v ixen !

Whoa “

! I say . Jack,trot her out ; let the gent le

man l ook at her paces .

Morgan I— She a in ’t noth in’el se, and I ’

ve got the

‘ papers to prove i t .

S i red by Ch ippewa Ch ief,and twel ve hundred do l

lars won’t buy her.

Briggs of Tuo lumne owned her. D id you knowBr iggs of T uo lumne ?

Busted h i ssel f in Wh i te Pine, and blew out his

bra ins down in’Fri sco .

Hedn’t no savey

,- hed Briggs . Thar

,Jack

'

that ’1 1 do

,— qu i t that fool in’

!

Noth in’ to what she kin do when she ’s got he

work cut out before her.

H osses i s hosses,you know,

and l ikewise,too

j ockeys i s j ockeys °

And’ta in’t every man as can r ide as knows whaa boss has got in h im .

Know the ol d ford on the Fork,that nearlv go

Flan i gan ’s leaders ?

Nasty in day l ight,you bet

,and a m ighty roug

ford in l ow water !

Wel l,i t a in ’t s i x weeks ago that me and the Jed

and h is nevey,

S truck for that ford in the n ight,in the ra in, an

the water al l round us ;

Up to our flanks in the gul ch,and R attlesnak

Creek just a b i l in’.

T HE S E A.

THE SE A .

BEH O LD the Sea,Opal ine

,the plent i fu l and strong,

.Yet beaut i fu l as i s the rose in June,Fresh as the tri ck l ing ra inbow of Ju ly

S ea ful l of food,the nour isher of k inds

,

P urger of earth,and med i c ine of men ;

Creat ing a sweet c l imate by my breath,

Wash ing'

out harms and griefs from memory,

And,in my mathemat i c ebb and flow

,

G iving a h int of that wh i ch changes not.

R i ch are the sea -gods -who gives gi fts but the

T hey grope the sea’

for pearl s,but more th

pearl s

They pluck Force thence,and give i t to the wi

For every wave i s weal th to D aedalus,

Weal th to the cunn ing art i st who can workT h i s match less strength . Where sha l l he find

,

waves !'

A l oad your At las Shoulders cannot l i ft ?

I wi th my hammer pound ing evermore

The rocky coast,sm ite Andes into dust

,

S trewing my bed , and , in another age,374

TH E S EA . 375

i l d a cont inent of better men.

I unbar the doors :my paths lead out

exodus of nat i ons :I d i sperseto a l l shores that front the hoary ma in.

RALPH WALDO EM ERSON .

THE SE A .

FROM CH I LDE H ARO LD,

” CANTO IV.

TH ERE i s a p leasure in the path less woods,

There i s a'

rapture on the l one ly shore,

There i s soc iety where none intrudes

By the deep sea,and mus i c in its roar

I l ove not man the less,but nature more

,

From these our interv iews , in wh ich I steal

From al l I may be, or have been - before ,

To mingle with the un iverse ,and fee l

What I can ne’er express , yet canno t a ll concea l .

R o l l on,thou deep and dark blue O cean .

“

Ten thousand lleets sweep over thee il l va in ;

Man marks the ea rth wi th ru in ,

— his co n tro l

S tops w i th the shore - Ilpon the wa te ry p la in

The wrecks are a ll thv deed ,nor do th rema in

A shadow of man’s ravage , save h is own .

When,for a moment

,l ike a d ro p o f ra i n ,

He s inks into thy depth s wi th bubb li ng gro an .

Wi thout a grave, unkne l led , uncofiined . and un

known .

H is steps are not upon th y p ath s .

—thv fie ld s

Are not a spo i l for h im ,—thou dos t a rise


And shake h im from thee ; the v i le strength 1 1

wiel ds

For earth ’s destruct i on thou dost all desp ise,

S purn ing h im from thy bosom to the sk ies,

And send’st h im ,

sh iver ing in thy p l ayful SprayAnd howl ing

,to h i s gods

,where hap ly l ies

H is petty hope in some near port Or bay,

And dashest him aga in to earth — there let him

l ay .

The armaments wh i ch thunderstr ike the wa llsO f rock -bu i l t c i t ies

,bidding nat i ons quake

And monarchs tremble in thei r cap i ta l s,

The oak levi athans,whose huge r ibs make

The i r c lay creator the va in t i t le takeO f l ord of thee and arb i ter of war

,

These are thy toys , and, as the snowy flake,Thev mel t into thy yeast of waves, wh i ch mar

A l ike the Armada’s pr i de or spo i l s of T rafa lgar.

Thv Shores are empires,changed in a l l savt

thee ;Assyria

,Greece

,R ome

,Carthage

,what are

they ?

Thy waters wasted them wh i le they were free,And manv a tvrant s ince ; thei r shores Obey

The stranger,slave

,or savage ; the i r decay

Has dried up rea lms to deserts :not so thou ;Unchangeable save to thy w i l d waves’ play ,T ime wri tes no wrink les on th ine azure brow ;

S uch as creat i on’s dawn behel d . thou rol lest now.

Thou glori ous m i rror,where the A lm ighty ’

s

form

G l asses i tsel f in tempests ; in a l l t ime,

378 PO EMS OF NATURE .

Whether morn ing’s sp lendors steep thee

Wi th the ra inbow ’s glow ing grace,

Tempests reuse,or naVies sweep thee

,

’T i s but for a moment ’s Space .

B a i ~ th,— her va l leys and her mounta ins

,

Morta l man’s behests obey ;T he unfathomable founta ins

S cott h i s search and scorn h is sway .

S uch art thou,stupendous Ocean !

But,i f overwhe lmed by thee

,

Can we th ink,Wi thout emot ion

,

What must thy Creator be ?

B ERNARD BARTON.

THE D ISAPPO INTE D LOVE R .

FROM T H E TR IUM PH OF T IM E .

I WILL go back to the great sweet motherMother and l over of men

,the Sea .

I wi l l go down to her,I and none other,

C l ose with her,k i ss her

,and .

mix her with

C l ing to her, str i ve with her, hold her fast .

O fa i r wh i te mother,in davs long past

Born without s ister,born without brother

S et free my soul as thy sou l i s free .

0 fa i r green-gi rd led mother of m ineSea

,that are c l othed w i th the sun and the rain,

Thy sweet hard k i sses are strong l ike wine,Thy l arge embraces are keen l ike pa in.

THE S EA . 379

S ave me and h ide me with a l l thy waves,

Find me one grave of thv thousand graves,Those pure col d populous graves of th ine,Wrought w ithout hand in a world without

sta in .

I sha l l sleep,and move with the moving sh ips

,

Change as the winds change,veer in the t i de ;

My l i ps wi l l feast on the foam of thy l i ps,

I sha l l r i se with thy r i s ing, with thee subs ide ;S leep

,and not know i f she be

,i f she were

,

Fi l led fu l l w i th l i fe to the eyes and ha i r,

As a rose i s fu l l fi l led to the rose- leaf t i ps

Wi th sp lend i d summer and perfume and pr ide.

Th i s woven ra iment of n ights and days,

Were i t once cast off and unwound from me,

Naked and glad would I walk in thy ways,

A l i ve'

and aware of thy waves and thee ;C lear of the whole worl d

,h i dden at home

,

Clothed w i th the green,and crowned w i th the

foam,

A pul se of the l i fe of thy stra i ts and bays,A vein in the heart of the streams of the Sea.

ALGERNON CH ARLES SWINB URNE .

O CEAN .

TH E COURSE OF T IME,

B OOK 1 .

GREAT Ocean ! strongest of creat i on’s sons,

Unconquerable,unreposed

,unt i red ,

That rol led the wi ld,profound

,eterna l bass

In nature’s anthem,and made musi c such


Whether morn ing’s sp lendors steep thee

Wi th the ra inbow ’s gl ow ing grace,

Tempests reuse,or nav ies sweep thee

,

’T i s but for a moment ’s Space .

E arth,— her va l leys and her mounta ins

,

Morta l man’s behests obey ;The unfathomable founta ins

S cotf h i s search and scorn h is swav.

S uch art thou,stupendous O cean !

But,i f overwhe lmed by thee

,

Can we th ink,Wi thout emot ion

,

What must thy Creator be ?

B ERNARD BARTON.

THE D ISAPPO INTE D LOVE R .

FROM TH E TR IUM PH O F T IM E .

I WILL go back to the great sweet motherMother and l over of men

, the Sea .

I wi l l go down to her,I and none other

,

Close with her,k i ss her

,and .mix her with

C l ing to her, str i ve with her, hold her fast .

O fa i r wh i te mother,in days l ong past

Born without s i ster,born without brother

S et free my sou l as thy soul i s free .

O fa i r green-gi rd led mother of m ine,Sea

,that are c l othed wi th the sun and the ra in

Thy sweet hard k i sses are strong l ike wine,Thy l arge embraces are keen l ike pa in .

380 POEMS OE NATURE .

As p leased the ear of God ! or igina l,

Unmarred, unfaded work of D ei ty !And unburlesqued by morta l ’s puny sk i l lFrom age to age endur ing

,and unchanged

,

Majest i ca l,in im i table

,vast

Loud utter ing sat ire,day and n ight

,on each

S ucceed ing race,and l i tt le pompous work

O f man ; unfa l len,rel i gi ous

,holy sea !

Thou bowedest thy glor ious head to~

none,feareds

none,

Heardst none,to none d i dst honor

, but to God

Thy Maker, only worthy to receiveThy great obei sance.

ROB ERT P OLLOK.

THE SEA .

TH E Sea ! the sea ! the open sea !

The blue,the fresh

,the ever free !

\Vithout a mark , without a bound

It runneth the earth ’s w ide regions round °

I t p lays wi th the c l ouds ; i t mocks the sk ies ;O r l ike a crad led creature l ies .

I ’m on the sea ! I ’m on the sea !

I am where I woul d ever be ;Wi th the blue above, and the b lue bel ow,

And S i lence wheresoe’er I go ;

I f a storm shoul d come and wake the deep,

What matter ? I sha l l r i de and s leep .

I l ove, 0 ,

how I l ove to r i de

On the fierce,foam ing, burst ing tide,

THE S EA . 381

When every mad wave drowns the moon,

O r wh i st les a l oft h i s tempest tune

And tel l s how goeth the worl d bel ow,

And why the sou ’west blasts do bl ow .

I never was on the dul l,tame shore

,

But I l oved the great sea more and more,

And backwards flew to her b i l l owy breast,

L ike a b i rd that seeketh i ts mother’s nest ;And a mother she was, and is , to me ;

For I was born on the Open sea !

The waves were wh ite,and red the morn

In the no i sy hour when I was born

And the whale i t wh i st led,the porpo i se rol led

,

And the dolph ins bared thei r backs of go ld ;And never was heard such an outcry w i l d

AS wel comed to l i fe the ocean ch i l d !

I’ve l i ved S ince then

,in ca lm and str i fe

Ful l fifty summers,a sa i l or’s l i fe

,

Wi th weal th to spend and a power to range,

But never have sought nor s ighed for change ;And D eath

,whenever he comes to me

,

Sha l l come on the wi ld,unbounded sea !

BRYAN WALLER P RO CTER (B arry Cornwa ll) .

ADDR E S S TO THE O CE AN .

O TH OU vast O cean ! ever - sound ing Sea !

Thou symbo l of a drear immens i ty !

Thou th ing that w indest round the sol i d worldL ike a huge an imal , wh i ch ,

downward hurled


As pleased the ear of God ! origina l,

Unmarred,unfaded work of D ei ty !

And unburlesqued by morta l ’s puny sk i l lFrom age to age endur ing

,and unchanged

,

Majest i ca l,in im i tab le

,vast

Loud utter ing sat i re,day and n i ght

,on each

S ucceed ing race,and l i tt le pompous work

O f man ; unfa l len, re l i gi ous, holy sea l

Thou bowedest thy glor ious head to none,feared

none,

Heardst none,to none d i dst honor

,but to God

Thy Maker, only worthy to receiveThy great obe i sance.

ROB ERT P OLLOK.

THE SEA .

TH E sea ! the sea ! the open sea !

The blue, the fresh , the ever free !

Wi thout a mark , w ithout a boundI t runneth the earth ’s w ide regions round ;I t p lays w i th the c l ouds ; i t mocks the sk ies ;O r l ike a crad led creature l ies .

I ’m on the sea ! I ’m on the sea !

I am where I would ever be ;Wi th the blue above, and the b lue bel ow,

And s i lence wheresoe’er I go ;

I f a storm Should come and wake the deep,What matter ? I sha l l r ide and S leep .

I l ove, 0 ,

how I l ove to r i de

On the fierce,foam ing, bursting tide,


From the black c l ouds,l ies wel ter ing and a lone,

Lash ing and writh ing t i l l i ts strength be gone !.Thy VO l ce Is l ike the thunder

,and thy sleep

I s as a giant ’s s lumber,l oud and deep .

T hou speakest in the east and in the west

At once,and on thy heavi ly laden breast

Fleets come and go,and shapes that - have no l i fe

O r mot i on, yet are moved and meet in str i fe.

The earth has naught of th i s :no chance or change

R uffles i ts surface,and no sp i r i ts dare

Give answer to the tempest -wakened a i r ;But o’

er i ts wastes the weak ly tenants rangeAt wi l l

,and wound i ts bosom as they go :

E ver the same,i t h ath no ebb

,no flow

But in the i r stated rounds the seasons come,

And pass l i ke v i s i ons to thei r wonted home ;And come aga in

,and van i sh ; the young S pring

Looks ever bright w ith leaves and bl ossom ing ;And Winter a lways w inds h is su l len horn,When the wi l d Autumn

,wi th a l ook forl orn

,

D ies in'

h is stormy manhood ; and the Sk ies

Weep,and fl owers s i cken

,when the summer fl ies.

O,wonderfu l thou art

,great e lement ,

And fearfu l in thy spleeny humors bent,And l ovely in repose ! thy summer form

Is beaut i fu l,and when thy s i l ver waves

Make musi c in earth ’s dark and wind ing caves

I l ove to,

wander on thy pebbled beach ,Mark ing the sun l ight at the evening hour,And hearken to the thoughts thy waters teachE tern i ty—E tern i ty— and Power .

BRYAN WALLER P RO CTER (B arry Cornwall) .

THE S EA . 383

THE GRAVE D IGGE R .

O H,the shambl ing sea i s a sexton o ld

,

And wel l h i s work i s done.

Wi th an equa l grave for l ord and knave,

He buries them every One.

Then boy and r ip,with a rol l ing h ip

,

He makes for the nearest Shore :

And God,who sent h im a thousand sh ip

,

Wi l l send h im a thousand more

But some he ’ l l save for a bleach lng grave,And Shou lder them in to shore

,

S hou lder them in,shoul der them in

,

S houl der them in to shore .

O h,the sh i ps of Greece and the sh i ps of T yre

Went out,and where are thev?

In the port thev made, they a re de layed

Wi th the Sh ips of yesterday .

He fo l l owed the sh ips of E ngland fa r,

As the sh i ps of l ong ago ;

And the sh i ps of France the v led h im a dance,

B ut:he la i d them a ll a row

O h,a loafing, id le l ubber to h im

Is the sexton of the town ;For sure and swi ft , w i th a gu id ing l i ft,

He shovel s the dead men down .

But though he del ves so fierce and grim ,

H is honest graves are wi de ,


As wel l they know who s leep bel owThe dredge of the deepest t ide.

Oh,he works w ith a rol l i ck ing stave at lip,

And l oud i s the chorus sk i r led ;Wi th the burly note of h i s rumbl ing throat

He batters i t down the worl d .

He learned i t once in his father’s house

Where the ba l l ads of eld were sung°

And merry enough i s the burden rough,

But no man knows the tongue .

Oh, fa i r they say , was his br ide to see,

And wi l fu l she must have been,

That She cou ld b ide at h i s gruesome s ideWhen the fi rst red dawn came in.

And sweet,they say , i s her k i ss to those

She greets to h i s border home ;And softer than s leep

'

her hand’s first sweepThat beckons

,and thev

'

come.

O h, crooked i s he, but strong enough

To hand le the ta l lest mast ;From the rova l barque to the S l aver dark

,

He buries them al l at l ast .

Then hoy and r ip , with a rol l ing h ip,He makes for the nearest shore

And God,who sent h im a thousand sh ip

,

Wi l l send h im a thousand more ;


D ash o’er them

,O cean

,in thy scornfu l p lay !

Man y iel ds them to decay .

Yet more,the b i l l ows and the depths have more !

H i gh hearts and brave are gathered to thy

breast !

They hear not now the booming waters roar,

The battle- thunders wi l l not break thei r rest sKeep thy red gol d and gems

,thou stormy grave !

Give back the true and brave !

G i ve back the l ost and l ovely — those for whom

The place was kept at board and hearth so

l ong !

The prayer went up through m idn i ght’s breath

less gloom

And the va in yearn ing woke mi dst festa l song !Ho l d fast thy bur ied is les

,

'

thy towers o’er

thrown,

But a l l i s not th ine own.

To thee the l ove of woman hath gone down,

D ark flow thy t i des o’er manhood ’s noble head

O’er youth ’s bright l ocks and beauty ’s flowery

crown ;

Yet must thou hear a vo i ce,— R estore the dead !

E arth shal l rec l a im her prec i ous th ings from

thee

R estore the dead, thou sea !

FEL I C IA H EMANS .

THE S EA . 387

FLOT SAM AND JE T SAM.

T H E sea crashed over the gr im gray rocks,

I t thundered beneath the height,

I t swept by reef and Sandy dune,

I t g l i ttered beneath the harvest moon

That bathed i t in yel l ow l igh t.

S hel l,and sea -weed

,and spark l ing stone

,

I t flung on the golden sand .

S trange re l i cs torn from its deepest caves

S ad troph ies of w i l d vi ctori ous waves ,

I t scattered upon the strand .

S pars that had l ooked so strong and true,

At many a gal lant launch ,S hattered and broken ,

fl ung to the shore ,

Wh i le the t ide il l i ts wi l d triul ll phant roarR ang a d i rge for the vesse l s tanch .

Petty tr i fles that l overs had brough t

From many a fore ign cl ime ,

S natched by the s torm from the c l inging c lasp

O f hands that the lone l y wi l l neve r gra s p.

Wh i le the world ye t measures time .

Back,back to i ts depths went the ebb ing

Leav ing its stores to res t.

Unsought and unseen il l the s i len t ba v,

To be gathered aga in , ere c lo se of day ,

To the ocean’

s m ightv breas t .


Kinder than man art thou, 0 sea ;

Frank ly we gi ve our best,T ruth , and hope, and l ove, and fa i th ,Devot i on that cha l lenges t ime and deathIts ster l ing worth to test .

We fl ing them down at our dar l ing’s feet,

Ind i fference leaves them there.

The careless footstep turns as i de,Weariness

,changefulness

,scorn

,or pr ide

,

Bring l i tt le of thought or care.

No t i de of human feel ing turns ;O nce ebbed

,l ove never flows ;

The p i t i fu l wreckage of t ime and str i fe

The flotsam and jetsam of human l i fe

No saving reflux knows .

ANONYMOUS .

A FOR SAKE N GAR DE N .

IN a co ign of the c l iff between l owland and h igh

l and,

At the sea -down’s edge between windward and

lee,

I Valled round wi th rocks as an in l and i s land

The ghost of a garden fronts the sea .

A gi rd le of brushwood and thorn encl oses

The steep , square sl ope of the bl ossomless bed

Where the weeds that grew green from the graves

of i ts roses

Now lie dead .


The sun burns sere and the ra in d i shevel s

O ne gaunt b leak bl ossom of scent less breath.

O n ly the wind here hovers and reve l s

In a round where l i fe seems barren as death .

Here there was laugh ing of o l d,there was weep

ins.

H ap ly,of l overs none ever will know

,

W'

hose eves went seaward a hundred sleep ingYears ago .

H eart handfast in heart as they stood,“ Look

th i ther,

”

D id he wh i sper ? Look forth from the flowers

to the sea ;

For the foam -flowers endure when the rose-b l os

soms w i ther,

And men that l ove l i ght ly may die— but we ?

And the same wind r sang. and .the same waves

wh i tened,

And or ever the garden’s l ast peta l s were shed,

In the l ips that had wh i spered,the eyes that had

l i gh tened,L ove was dead .

O r they l oved the i r l i fe through , and then went

wh i ther "

And were one to the end— but what end who

knows ?

Love deep as the sea a s a rose must wi ther,As the rose-red seaweed that mocks the rose.

Shal l the dead take thought for the dead to l ove

them ?

What l ove was ever as deep as a grave ?

THE SEA . 39 1

{They are l oveless now as the grass above themOr the wave .

All are at one now,roses and l overs

,

Not known of the c l i ffs and the fiel ds and the

sea .

Not a breath of the t ime that has been hoversIn the a i r now soft wi th a summer to be.

Not a breath sha l l there sweeten the seasons hereafter

Of the fl owers or the l overs that laugh now or

weep,

When . as thev that are free now of weep ing and

l aughter,

We shal l s leep .

Here death may dea l not aga in forever

H ere change may come not t i l l a l l change end .

From the graves they have made they sha l l r i se

up never,

Wh o have left nought l i ving to ravage and

rend .

E arth,stones

,and thorns of the wi l d ground

grow ing

Wh i le the sun and the ra in l i ve, these sha l l be ;T i l l a l ast w ind ’s breath upon al l these blowing

R ol l the sea .

Ti l l the s l ow sea r i se and the sheer c l i ff crumble,

T i l l terrace and meadow the deep gulfs drink,T i l l the strength of the waves of the h igh t ides

humble

The fiel d s that lessen, the rocks that shr ink,


Here now in h i s tr iumph where all th ings falter,S tretched out on the spo i l s that h i s own hand

spread,

As a god se l f - s la in on h i s own strange al tar,

D eath l ies dead .

ALGERNON CH ARLES SWI NB URNE .

GULF—W'

E E D .

A WEARY weed,tossed to and fro

D rearily drenched in the ocean brine,

S oaring h igh and s ink ing l ow,

Lashed al ong wi thout wi l l of m ine ;Sport of the spume of the surging sea ;

Flung on the foam,afar and anear

,

Mark my man i fo l d my stery ,

Growth and grace in the i r p lace appear.

I bear round berr ies,gray and red

,

R ootless and rover though I be ;My spangled leaves, when n i ce ly spread,Arboresce as a trunkless tree ;

Coral s curi ous coat me o’er

,

Wh i te and hard in apt arrav ;Mid the wi l d waves ’ rude uproar

Graceful ly grow I,n igh t and day .

Hearts there are on the sound ing shore

S ometh ing wh i spers soft to me.

R est less and roam ing forevermore

L i ke th i s weary weed of the sea ;


T i ll in she l tered coves, and reaches

O f sandy beaches,

A ll have found repose aga in.

So when storms of wi l d emot ion

S tr ike the ocean

O f the poet‘

s sou l,erel ong ,

From each cave and rocky fastnessIn i ts vastness

,

Floats some fragment of a song

From the far -off i s les enchantedHeaven has p lanted

W’

i th the gol den fru i t of T ruth ;From the flash ing surf

,whose vi s i on

Gleams E lys i an

In the trop i c c l ime of Youth ;

From the strong W’

i l l,and the E ndeavor

That forever

SVrestles with the tides of Fate '

From the wreck of H opes far - scattered,

Tempest - shattered,

Floating waste and desol ate ;

E ver dri ft ing , dri ft ing, dr i ft ing

O n the sh i ft ing

Currents of the restless heart ;T i l l a t length in books recorded

T hey ,l i ke hoarded

H ousehold words, no more depart .

H ENRY “’ADSWO RT H LONGFE LLOW .

THE S E A . 395

THE CORAL INSE CT .

Ton. on ! to i l on ! ye ephemera l tra in,

Who bu i ld in the toss ing and treacherous main ;To i l on ! fo r the wi sdom of man ye mock ,Wi th vour sand -based structure and domes of

rock,

Your co lumns the fathomless founta ins’ cave,

And vour arches spring up to the crested wave ;Ye

'

re a punv race thus to bold ly rear

A fabri c so vast in a rea lm so drear .

Ye b ind the deep wi th your secret zone,

T he ocean is sea led,and the surge a stone ;

Fresh wreaths from the cora l pavement spring,

L i ke the terraced pride of Assyr ia ’s k ing ;T he turf l ooks green where the breakers ro l led ;O

’

er the wh irlpoo l r ipens the r ind of go ld ;The sea - snatched i sle i s the home of men

,

And mounta ins exu lt where the wave hath been.

But why do ye plant,’neath the b i l l ows dark,

The wreck ing reef for the ga l lant bark ?

There are snares enough on the tented fie l d,Mid the b lossomed sweets that the va l leys y iel d ;T here are serpents to co i l ere the flowers are up,T here

’s a poi son drop in man’s purest cup .

There are foes that wa tch for h is cradle breath ,

And whv need ye sowthe floods w i th death ?

i th mouldering bones the deeps are wh ite,From the ice- clad po le to the trop i cs br ight ;


The merma id hath tw i sted her fingers co ldWi th the mesh of the sea -bov

’s curl s of go ld

And the gods of the ocean have frowned to see

The mariner’s bed in the i r ha l l s of glee ;H ath earth no graves

,that ye thus must spread

The bound less sea for the thronging d ead ?

Ye bu i ld — ye bu i l d— but ye enter not in,

L ike the tr ibes whom the desert devoured in

the i r sin ;

From the l and of promi se ye fade and die

E re'

its verdure gleams forth on your weary eye

As the k ings of the c l oud - crowned pyramid,

The i r no i seless bones in obl i v i on h id,

Ye s lumber unmarked mid the desolate mainWh i le the wonder and pride of your works re

main.

LYD IA H UNTLEY S I GOURNEY.

THE CORAL RE E F .

FROM T H E P E L ICAN I SLAND .

E VERY one,

By inst inct taught,performed i ts l i tt le task ,

To bui l d i ts dwe l l ing and i ts sepul chre,

From i ts own essence exqu i s i tely model led ;T here breed

,and d ie

,and leave a progeny ,

S t i l l mul t ip l ied bevond the reach of numbers ,To frame new cel l s and tombs ; then breed and die

As al l thei r ancestors had done , —and rest,

Hermet i ca l ly sealed , each in i ts shr ine,A statue in th i s temple of ob l i v i on !


Descend ing to the i r base in ocean gloom .

Chasms few and narrow and irregu lar

Formed harbors,safe at once and per i l ous

S afe for defence,but per i l ous to enter .

A sea - l ake shone amidst the foss i l isle,

R eflect ing in a r ing i ts c l iffs and caverns

Wi th heaven i tsel f seen l ike a l ake bel ow .

JAME S MONTGOM ERY.

THE CHAMBE RE D NAUT ILUS .

TH I S i s the sh ip of pearl,wh i ch

,poets fei gn

,

S a i l s the unshadowed ma in,

The venturous bark that fi ingsO n the sweet summer Wlnd i ts purp led wings

In gul fs enchanted,where the S i ren s ings

,

And cora l reefs lie bare,

Where the co l d sea -maids rl se to sun thei r stream

ing ha i r .

I ts webs of l i v ing gauze no more unfurl ;I Vrecked i s the sh ip of pear l .

And every chambered cel l,

Where i ts d im dreaming l i fe was wont to dwel l,

As the fra i l tenant shaped h i s growing she l l

Before thee l ies revealed,

I ts i r i sed cei l ing rent,i ts sun less crypt unsea led !

Year after year behel d the s i lent to i l

That spread h i s l ustrous co i l ;S t i l l

,as the sp i ra l grew,

He left the past year ’s dwel l ing for the new,

THE SEA . 399

S to le wi th soft step i ts sh in ing archway through,

Bui l t up i ts id le door,

S tretched in h i s l ast - found home,and knew the

o l d no more.

Thanks for the heaven ly message brought by thee,Ch i ld of the wandering sea

,

Cast from her l ap,forlorn !

From thv dead l i ps a c learer note i s born

Than ever T ri ton blew from wreathed horn !

“'

h i le on mine ear i t r ings,

Through the deep caves of thought I hear a vo i ce

that s ings :

Bui l d thee more stately mans ions,O my soul ,

A s the swi ft seasons rol l !

Leave thv l ow -vaul ted past !

Let each new temple,nobler than the l ast,

Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast

T i l l thou at length art free,Leav ing th ine outgrown shel l by l i fe’s unrest ing

sea !

O L IVER WENDELL H O LMES .

A WE T SHE E T AND A FLOWING SEA.

A WE T Sheet and a flowing sea,

A wind that fo l lows fast,

And fi l l s the wh ite and rustl ing sa i l ,

And bends the gal l ant mast,

And bends the ga l l ant mast, my boys,

Wh i le, l i ke the eagle free,


Away the good sh ip fl ies,and leaves

O ld E ngland on the lee.

O for a soft and gent le wind !I heard a fa i r one cry ;

But gi ve to me the snor ing breezeAnd wh i te waves heav ing h igh

,

And wh i te waves heav ing h igh,my

The good Sh ip t ight and free ;The worl d of waters i s our home

,

And merry men are we.

There ’s tempest in yon horned moon,

And l i ghtn ing in yon c l oud ;And hark the musi c

,mariners !

The wind i s p i p ing l oud,

The wind i s p ip ing l oud,my boys

,

The l i ghtn ing flash ing free ;Wh i le the hol l ow oak our pa lace i s

,

Our her i tage the sea .

ALLAN CU NN I NGHAM.

SONG OF THE EMIGRANTS IN BE RMUDA.

YV

H E RE the remote Bermudas r ideIn the ocean ’s bosom unespied

,

From a smal l boat that rowed a long

The l i stening winds recei ved th i s song“What should we do but s ing H is pra i seThat led us through the watery maze

Where he the huge sea monsters wracks,

That l i ft the deep upon thei r backs,


MY BR IGANT INE .

FROM TH E WATER W ITCH .

JUST in thy mou l d and beauteous in thy form

Gent le in ro l l and buoyant on the surge,

L i ght as the sea - fowl rock ing in the storm

In breeze and ga le thy onward course we urge,

My water -queen !

Lady of mine,

More l ight and swi ft than thou none thread thesea

Wi th surer keel or stead ier on i ts path,

We brave each waste of ocean -mystery

And l augh to hear the howl ing tempest ’s wrath,

For“

we are th ine.

My bri gant ine !

T rust to the myst i c power that po ints thy way,T rust to the eye that p ierces from afar

T rust the red meteors that around thee p lay,And

,fearless

,trust the S ea -Green Lady ’s star

Thou bark d i v ine !JAM E S FEN IMORE COOPER.

THE HE AV ING OF THE LE AD .

F OR E ngland when wi th favor ing ga le

Our gal l ant sh i p up channel steeredAnd

,scudd ing under easv sa i l

,

The h igh blue western l and appeared ;T O heave the lead the seaman Sprung,And to the pilot

‘

cheerly sung ,

B v the deep— n ine ! ”

THE S E A .

And bear ing up to gain the port,

S ome wel l-known Object kept in view,

An abbev- tower,a harbor - fort

,

O r bea con to the vesse l true '

Wh i le oft the lead the seaman flung,

And to the p i l ot cheerly sung,

By the mark— seven !

And as the much - l oved shore we near,

Wi th transport we behol d the roof

W'

here dwel t a friend or partner dear,

O f fa i th and l ove a match less proof .

The lead once more the seaman flung,

And to the watchfu l p i l ot sung,

Quarter less— five !

Now to her berth the sh ip draws n igh

“'

e shorten sa i l,—she feel s the t i de

,

S tand c lear the cable ” i s the cry,

The anchor ’S gone ; we safely ri de .

The watch i s set,and through the ni ght

We hear the seamen with del i gh t

Procla im A ll ’S we l l !

CH ARLE S D IBDIN .

THE MINUTE—GUN .

V‘VH E N in the storm on A l b i on’s coast

The n i ght -watch guards h i s weary post,From thoughts of danger free,

He marks some vessel ’s dusky form

And hears,am id the howl ing storm ,

The minute-

gun at sea .

403


Swift on the shore a hardy few

The l i fe-boat man with a ga l l ant crew

And dare the dangerous wave ;Through the wi l d surf they c leave thei r way,Lost in the foam

,nor know d i smay

,

For they go the crew to save.

But 0,what rapture fi l l s each breast

O f the hopeless crew of the sh ip d i stressed !Then

,l anded safe

,what j oy to te l l

O f all the dangers that befel l !

T hen i s heard no more

By the watch on shore,

The minute-

gun at sea .

R . S 0 SHARPE O

ALL’S WE LL .

FROM TH E B R IT I SH FLEET .

”

D ESERTED by the wan ing moon,

W'

hen sk ies proc l a im n i ght’s cheerless noon

O n tower, or fort, or tented ground

The sentry wa l ks h i s l onely round ;And shoul d a footstep haply stray

Where caut i on marks the guarded way ,goes there ? S tranger

,qui ck ly tel l ! ”

A fr iend ! ” The word ? ” Good -n ight ; all’s

wel l .

Or,sa i l ing on the midn i gh t deep ,

When weary messmates sound ly s leep,The carefu l watch patrol s the deck ,TO guard the sh ip from foes or wreck


Her y ield ing t imbers sever,

Her p i tchy seams are rent,

When Heaven,a l l bounteous ever

,

I ts boundless mercy sent,

A sa i l in S i ght appears !

We ha i l her with three cheers ;Now we sa i l

,with the gale

,

From the Bay O f Biscay,0 !

ANDREW CH ERRY.

TOM B OYVLING .

H ERE,a sheer hu lk

,l ies poor Tom Bowl ing,

The dar l ing of our crew ;No more he ’ 1 1 hear the tempest howl ing

,

For death has broached h im to .

H is form was of the manl iest beauty,

H is heart was k ind and soft ;Fa i thfu l

,bel ow

,he d i d h i s duty ;

But now he’s gone al oft .

Tom never from h i s word departed,

H is v i rtues were so rare.

H is friends were many and true-hearted,

H is Pol l was k ind and fa i r

And then he ’d s ing, so b l i the and j o l ly,

Ah,many ’

s the t ime and oft !

B ut mirth i s turned to mel ancholy,For Tom i s gOne al oft .

Yet shal l poor Tom find p leasant weather,

When He who all commands

S ha l l gi ve,to ca l l l i fe’s crew together,

The word to pipe all hands .

”

THE S EA . 407

Thus Death , who k ings and tars despatches,

In va in Tom ’s l i fe has dotted ;For though h i s body ’

s under hatches

H is sou l has gone a loft .

CHARLES D IRD IN .

YE MAR INE R S OF E NGLAND .

YE mariners of E ngland !That guard our nati ve seas ;Whose flag has braved , a thousand years,The batt le and the breeze !

Your gl or i ous standard l aunch aga in

To match another foe !

And sweep through the deep,

Wh i le the stormy w inds do blow ;Wh i le the battle rages l oud and l ong

,

And the stormv windsdo blow .

The Sp i r i ts O f your fathers

Sha l l start from every wave !

For the deck i t was the i r fiel d O f fame,

And ocean was thei r grave :

“There Blake and mighty Ne l son fel l

Your man l y hearts shal l gl ow

As ye sweep through the deep ,Wh i le the stormy w inds do bl ow ;WVhile the batt le r

’

ages l oud and l ong,And the stormy winds do blow .

Bri tann i a needs no bulwarks,NO towers al ong the steep '

Her march i s o’er the mounta in-waves

Her home i s on the deep .


Wi th thunders from her nat i ve oak,

She que l l s the floods bel ow,

As they roar on the Shore,

When the stormy w inds do b low ;When the batt le rages l oud and l ongAnd the stormy winds do bl ow .

The meteor flag of E nglandS hal l yet terrific burn ;T i l l danger’s troubled n i ght depart

,

And the,

star of peace return .

T hen,then

, ye ocean warr iors !

O ur song and feast sha l l flow

To the fame of your name

When the storm has ceased to b low ;When the fiery fight i s heard no more

,

And the storm has ceas ed to bl ow .

TH OM AS CAM P BELL.

THE WH ITE SQUALL .

TH E sea was br ight,and the bark rode wel l ;

The breeze bore the tone. of the vesper bel l ;’T was a ga l l ant bark with a crew as brave

As ever launched on the heav ing wave.

She shone in the l i gh t of dec l in ing day ,

And each sa i l was set, and each heart was gay .

They neared the l and where in beauty smi les

The sunny shore of the Grec ian I sles '

All thought of home, of that wel come dear

Wh i ch soon shou l d greet each wanderer’s ear ;And in fancy j o ined the soc ia l throngIn the fest i ve dance and the jovous song .


O,gi ve me the flash ing br ine,The spray and the tempest’s roar !

Once more on the deck I stand,

Of my own swi ft -gl i d ing craft

Set sa i l ! farewel l to the l and ;The ga le fo l l ows fa i r abaft .

We shoot through the spark l ing foam,

L i ke an ocean -b i rd set free,L i ke the ocean -b i rd

,our home

We’ll find far out on the sea .

The land i s no l onger in ViewThe c l ouds have begun to frown ;

But wi th a stout vessel and crew

We’ 1 1 say

,Let the storm come down !

And the song of our hearts sha l l be,

Wh i le the winds and the waters rave,

A home on the rol l ing sea !

A l i fe on the ocean wave !

EP ES SARGENT.

TO SE A !

To sea ! to sea ! the ca lm i s o’er,

The wanton water leaps in sport,

And ratt les down the pebbly shore,

The dolph in wheel s,the sea - cows snort,

And unseen mermaid ’s pearly song

Comes bubbl ing up, the weeds among.

F l ing broad the sa i l,d ip deep the oar

To sea ! to sea ! the ca lm i s o’er.

THE S EA . 41 1

To sea ! to sea ! our wh ite -winged barkS ha l l b i l l owing cleave i ts watery way

,

And wi th i ts shadow,

fleet and dark,

Break the caved T ri ton'

s azure day

L ike mounta in eagle soaring l ight

O’

er antel opes on A l p ine he i gh t .

The anchor heaves ! The sh i p swings free !

Our sa i l s swe l l ful l ! To sea ! to sea !

TH O MAS LOVELL B EDDO ES .

T \VILIGHT AT S E A .

TH E twi l i ght hours,l i ke b i rds

,flew by

,

As l ightly and as free,

Ten thousand stars were in the sky

Ten thousand on the sea ;

For everv wave,with d impled face

That leaped upon the a i r ,Had caught a star in i ts embrace,And hel d i t trembl ing there.

AM E L IA B . WELB Y .

TACK ING SH IP OFF SHOR E .

TH E weather - leech of the topsa i l Sh ivers,

The bowl ines stra in, and the lee

- shrouds slacken,

The braces are taut,the l i the boom qu i vers

,

And the waves w i th the com ing squa l l - c l oud

bl acken .

O pen one po int on the wea ther -bow,

I s the l i ght -house ta l l on Fire I s l and Head ?

There’s a shade of doubt On the capta in’s brow,

And the pi l ot watch es the heaving lead .


I stand at the wheel , and wi th eager eye

To sea and to sky and to shore I gaze,

T i l l the muttered order O f“ Ful l and by l

IS sudden ly changed for “ Ful l for stays ! ”

The sh ip bends l ower before the breeze,

As her broadsi de fa i r to the blast she l ays ;And she swifter springs to the r i s ing seas,As the p i lot ca l l s, S tand by for stays ! ”

I t i s si lence al l,as each in h is p l ace,

Wi th ' the gathered co i l in h i s hardened hands,By tack and bowl ine

,by Sheet and brace,

Wa it ing the watchword impat ient stands .

And the l ight on Fire Is land Head draws near,

AS,trumpet -winged

,the p i l ot ’s Shout

From h i s post on the bowspr i t’s heel I hear,

Wi th the wel come cal l of “ R eady ! About ! ”

NO t ime to spare ! I t i s touch and go ;And the capta in growls

,

“ D own,helm ! hard

down ! ”

As my wei ght on the whi rl ing spokes I throw,

Wh i le heaven grows black with the storm

cloud ’s frown .

H igh o’er the kn ight -heads fl ies the Spray

,

As we meet the shock of the pl unging sea ;And my shoulder st iff to the wheel I l ay

,

As I answer, Ay , ay , s i r ! Ha -a - rd a - lee !”

Wi th the swerv ing leap of a start led steedT he sh ip fl ies fast in the eye of the wind,


THE STORM.

CEASE,rude Boreas , b luster ing ra i ler !

L i st, ye l andsmen,

a l l to me,

Messmates,hear a brother sa i l or

S lng the dangers of the sea ;

From bounding b i l l ows,

first in mot i on,

When the di stant wh i rlw inds r i se,To the tempest - troubled ocean

,

Where the seas contend w i th sk ies .

H ark ! the boatswa in hoarsel y bawl ing,By topsa i l Sheets and halyards stand !

D own top - gal l ants qu i ck be haul ing !D own y our stay - sa i l s

,hand

,boys

,hand !

Now i t freshens,set the braces

Qui ck the topsa i l sheets let go ;Luff , boys, l uff ! don’t make wry faces

,

Up your topsa i l s nimb lv c lew .

R ound us roars the tempest l ouder,

Th ink what fear our m inds inth ra l l s !Harder yet, i t yet bl ows harder,Now again the boatswa in ca l l s .

The topsa i l yard point to the wind,boys

,

See a l l clear to reef each course ;Let the fore sheet go

,don’t m ind

,boys

,

Though the weather Shoul d be worse.

THE S EA . 4 1 5

Fore and aft the spri t -sa i l vard get,R eef the mizzen. see a l l c lea r ;

Hands up ! each prevent i ve bra ce se t !

Man the fore vard . cheer, l ad s , cheer!

Now the dreadfu l thunder ’s roaring

Pea l on pea l contend ing clash,

O n our heads fierce ra in fa l l s pour ing,

In our eves bl ue l i ghtn ings flash .

O ne wi de water a l l around us,

A ll above us one b lack skv ;

D i fferent death s at once surround us :

Hark ! what means that dreadfu l cry ?

The foremast ’s gone

,cr ies everv tongue out,

O’

er the lee twel ve feet ’bove deck ;A leak beneath the chest - tree

’

s sprung out,

Ca l l a l l hands to c lear the wreck .

Qui ck the lanyard s cut to p ieces ;Come

,my hearts

,be stout and bol d ;

P l umb the wel l .— the leak increases,

Four feet water in the hol d !

Wh i le o’

er the sh i p w i l d waves are beat ing,“’

e our wi ves and ch i ld ren mourn ;A l as ! from hence there ’

S no retreat ing,A l a s ! to them there ’

s no return !

S t i l l the leak i s ga in ing on us !

Both cha in -pumps are choked bel owHeaven have mercv here upon us !

For on ly that can save us now.


O’er the lee-beam i s the l and , boys,

Let the guns o’erboard be thrown ;

To the pumps cal l every hand , boys,

See ! our m izzen -mast i s gone.

The leak we ’ve found, i t cannot pour fast

We’ve l ighted her a foot or more ;

Up and r ig a j ury foremast,She r ights ! she r ights, boys ! we

’re O ff shore.

GEORGE ALEX ANDER STEVEN S .

THE WRE CK .

FROM “DON JUAN

,

” CANTO I I .

TH EN rose from sea to sky the wi l d farewel lThen shrieked the t imid

,and stood st i l l the

brave,

T hen some leaped overboard with dreadfu l yel l ,As eager to ant i c ipate thei r grave ;

And the sea vawned around her l i ke a he l l,

And down she sucked w ith her the wh i r l ing

wave,

L i ke one who grapples w ith h i s enemy,

And str ives to strangle h im before he d ie .

And first one un i versa l shriek there rushed,

Louder than the l oud ocean,l i ke a crash

Of echoing thunder ; and then a l l was hushed

S ave the wi l d wind and the remorse less dash

Of b i l l ows ; but at interval s there gushed ,Accompan ied wi th a convul s ive sp lash

,

A sol i tary shr iek,the bubbl ing cry

Of some strong sw immer in h is agony .

LORD B YRON .


Then might I wi th unr i val led stra ins dep loreThe imperv ious horrors of a leeward shore !

As o’er the surge the stoop ing ma inmast hung,

S t i l l on the r igging th i rty seamen c l ung ;

S ome, struggl ing, on a broken crag were cast,And there by oozy tangles grappled fast .

Awh i le they bore the O’erwhelm ing b i l l ows

’ rage,Unequal combat wi th thei r fate to wage ;T i l l

,al l benumbed and feeb le

,they forego

Thei r s l i ppery hol d, and s ink to shades bel ow .

Some,from the main -yard -arm impetuous thrown

O n marble r i dges, d ie without a groan .

Three with Palemon on thei r sk i l l depend

And from the wreck on oars and rafts descend .

Now on the mounta in wave on h igh they r i de,

Then downward p l unge beneath the invo lv ing t ide,T i l l one

,who seems in agony to str i ve

The whi rl ing breakers heave on shore a l i ve °

The rest a speed ier end of angu ish knew,

And pressed the stony beach,a l i fe less crew !

W I LL IAM FALCONER.

THE RO CK AND THE SEA .

TH E R OCK .

I AM the R ock,presumptuous Sea !

I am set to encounter thee.

Angry and l oud,or gent le and st i l l

,

I am set here to l im i t thy power,and I w i l l

I am the R ock !

I am the R ock . From age to age

I scorn thy fury and dare thy rage.

THE S EA . 4 1 9

S carred by frost and worn bv t ime,

Brown wi th weed and green with s l ime,

Thou mayst drench and defi le me and sp i t in

face,

But wh i le I am here thou keep’s t thv place !

I am the R ock !

I am the R ock,begu i l ing S ea !

I know thou art fa i r as fa i r can be

Wi th go lden gl i tter and s i lver sheen,

And bosom of blue and garments of green .

Thou mayst pat my cheek w i th babv hands

And l ap my feet in d iamond sands,

And play before me as ch i l dren play ;But p lead as thou w i l t

,I bar the way !

I am the R ock !

I am the R ock. Black m idni gh t fa l l s ;The terr ible breakers r i se l i ke wal l s ;Wi th curl ing l i ps and gleaming teethT hey pl unge and tear at my bones beneath .

Year upon year they grind and beat

In storms of thunder and storms of s leet

Grind and beat and wrestle and tear,

But the rock they beat on i s a lways there !I am the R ock !

TH E S EA .

I am the Sea . I ho ld the l and

As one ho lds an app le In h i s hand .

Ho ld i t fast w i th s leep less eyes,Watch ing the cont inents s ink and ri se.

O ut of mv bosom the mounta ins grow ,


Back to i ts depths they crumble sl owThe earth i s a hel p less ch i l d to me

I am the Sea !

I am the S ea . When I draw backBlossom and verdure fo l l ow my track

,

And the land I leave grows proud and fa ir,

For the wonderful race of man i s there ;And the winds of heaven wa i l and cry

Wh i le the nat ions r i se and rei gn and d ie

L i v ing -and dying in fol ly and pa in,

Wh i le the l aws of the un i verse thunder in va in.

What i s the fol ly O f man to me ?

I am the Sea !

I am the Sea . The earth I sway ;Gran i te to me i s potter’s c lay ;Under the touch of my careless waves

I t ri ses in turrets and s inks in caves ;The i ron c l i ffs that edge the l and

I grind to pebbles and s i ft to sand,

And beach -grass b loweth and ch i ldrenIn what were the rocks of yesterday ;I t i s but a moment of sport to me

I am the Sea !

I am the Sea . In mv bosom deep

“'

ealth and “'

onder and Beauty S leep ;Weal th and “’onder and Beauty r i seIn changing Splendor of sunset sk ies

,

And comfort the earth wi th ra ins and snowsT i l l waves the harvest and laughs the rose.

Flower and forest and ch i l d of breath

'


THE KE AR SARGE .

IN the 0 i'

loomy ocean bed

Dwel t a formless th ing, and sa i d,In the d im and count less eons l ong ago,

I w i l l bu i l d a strongho ld h igh,

Ocean’s power to defy,'

And the pri de of -haughty man to l ay low.”

Crept the minutes for the sad,

Sped the cyc les for the gl ad,

But the march of t ime was ne i ther less nor more ;Wh i le the formless atom d ied

Myri ad m i l l i ons by i ts s i de,And above them s lowlv l i fted R oncador.

R oncador of Caribee

Cora l dragon of the sea ,

E ver sleep ing with h i s teeth bel ow the wave ;Woe to h im who breaks the sleep !

Woe to them who sa i l the deep !

Woe to sh ip and man that fear a sh i pman’s grave !

H i ther many a ga l leon o l d,

Heavy -keeled Wi th gu i l ty gold,

'F led before the hardy rover smi t ing sore ;But the sleeper s i lent l ay

T i l l the preyer and h i s prey

B rought thei r p lunder and thei r bones to Roncao

dor.

B e content, 0 conqueror !

Now our bravest sh ip‘

of war,

THE S EA . 423

.War and tempest who had often braved before,

A ll her s toried prowess past,

S tri kes her glor i ous flag at lastTo the formless th ing that bui l ded R oncador .

JAM ES J EF FREY ROCH E.

TH E DUO Y—B E LL .

How l ike the leper,wi th h i s own sad cry

E nforc ing h is own so l i tude. i t to l l s !

That lonelv bel l set in the rush ing shoa l s

To wa rn us from the place of jeopard v !

0 fr iend of man ! sore-vexed b y ocean’s power,

The changing t ides wash o'

er thee day by day ;Thy trembl ing mouth i s fi l led wi th b i tter spray,Yet st i l l thou ringest on from hou r to hour ;H i gh i s thv miss ion ,

though th y l ot is w i l d

To be in danger ’s realm a guard ian sound °

In seamen’

s dreams a plea sant part to bear,

And earn the i r b less ing as the year goes round,

And str ike the key -note of each gratefu l prayer,

Breathed in thei r d i stant homes by w i fe or ch i ld !CH ARLE S TENNYSON TURNER.

DOVE R BEACH .

TH E sea'

l s ca lm to n i ght .

The t ide i s fu l l,the moon l ies fa i r

Upon the stra i ts —ou the French coast the l ight

G leams and i s gone ; the cl i ffs of E ngland stand ,G l immer ing and vast

,out in the tranqu i l bay .

C ome to the window ,sweet i s the n ight -a i r !

L i sten ! you hear the grat ing roar

Of pebbles wh i ch the waves draw back , and fl ing,

At thei r return, up the h igh strand ,Begin, and cease, and then aga in begi

n,

Wi th tremulous cadence sl ow,and br ing

The eternal note of sadness in .

S ophocles long ago

Heard it on the Z Egaean,and i t brought

Into h i s mind the turb id ebb and flow

Of human misery ; we

Find a lso in the sound a thought ,Hearing i t bV th i s d i stant northern sea .

The sea of fa ith

Was once,too

,at the ful l , and round earth’s shore

Lay l i ke the fo lds of a bright gird le furled .

But now I only hear

Its melancholy,l ong

,withdrawing roar

,

R etreating,to the breath

Of the n ight -winds,down the vast edges drear

And naked sh ingles of the worl d .

Ah,l ove

,let us be true

To one another ! for the world,wh i ch seems

To lie before us l ike a l and of dreams,

S o var ious , so beaut i fu l , so new,

Hath rea l ly nei ther j oy,nor l ove

,nor l ight ,

Nor cert i tude. nor peace, nor hel p for pa in ;And we are here as on a dark l ing pla inSwept with confused alarms of struggle and fl i ght

,

Where i gnorant arm ies cl ash by n ight .

M ATTH EW ARNO LD .


Thou fearest the sea ?

And a tyrant i s he,

A tyrant as cruel as tyrant may be ;But though w inds fierce b low,

And the rocks lie l owAnd the coast be lee,Th i s I say to thee

O f Chri st ian soul s more have been wrecked on

shore

Than ever were l ost at sea !

CH ARLES H ENRY WEBB .

THE SEA SHE LL .

FROM TH E EX CURS ION ,

”B OOK Iv.

I H AVE seenA curious ch i l d

, who dwel t upon a tract

Of inl and ground,apply ing to h i s ear

The convolut i ons of a smooth - l ipped shel l ;To wh i ch

,in s i lence hushed

,h i s very sou l

‘

L i stened intensely ; and h i s countenance soon

Brightened with joy ; for from wi th in were heardMurmurings

,whereby the mon i tor expressed

Mysteri ous un i on with i ts nat i ve sea .

E ven such a She l l the un i verse i t sel f

I s to the ear O f Fai th ; and there are t imes,I doubt not

,when to you i t doth impart

Authent i c t i d ings of inv i s ib le th ings ;Of ebb and fl ow

,and ever - dur ing power ;

And centra l peace,subsi st ing at the heart

O f endless agitat i on.

W I LL IAM WORD SWORTH .

THE S EA . 427

THE SHE LL .

FROM GEB IR .

‘

B O OK I .

I AM not daunted,no ; I w i l l engage.

But fi rs t . sa id she , what wager wi l l you lay ?

A sheep. I answered , add whate’

er you wi l l .

I cannot,she repl ied . make that return

O ur h ided vessel s in the i r p i tchy round

Se l dom,unles s from rap ine

,ho ld a sheep .

But I have s inuous she l l s of pearly hue

“'

i th in,and they that l ustre have imb ibed

In the Sun’s pa la ce -porch,where when unyoked

H is char i ot -wheel stands m idwav in the wave :

S ha ke one and i t awakens,then apply

Its polisht l i ps to your attent ive ear

And i t remembers i ts august abodes .And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there.

WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.

HAMPTON BEACH .

TH E sun l ight gl i tters keen and br ight,

W’

here,mi les away

,

L ies stretch ing to my dazz led s ightA l uminous bel t

,a mi sty l ight

,

Beyond the dark p ine bluffs and wastes of

gray .

The tremulous shadow of the Sea !

Aga inst i ts ground


O f s i l very l ight, rock, h i l l , and tree,S t i l l as a p i cture, clear and free,

Wi th vary ing outl ine mark the coast for m i les

around .

On— on —we tread wi th l oose-flung rein

Our seaward way ,Through dark -green fiel ds and b lossom ing

grain,

Where the wi l d brier- rose sk i rts the l ane,

And bends above our heads the flower ing l ocust

spray.

Ha ! l i ke a k ind hand on my brow

Comes th i s fresh breeze,

Cool ing i ts dul l and fever i sh glow,

Wh i le through my be ing seems to flow

The breath of a new l i fe,— the hea l ing O f the

Now rest we,where th i s grassy mound

H is feet hath set

In the great waters,wh i ch have bound

H is gran i te ankles green ly round

Wi th l ong and tangled moss,and weeds wi th

spray wet.

Good -bye to pa in and care ! I

Mine ease to -dav ;Il ere. where the sunny waters

And ri pples th i s keen breeze,I

All burdens from the heart,a l l thoughts

away .


What heed I of the dusty l andAnd no i sy town ?

I see the mighty deep expand

From i ts wh i te l ine O f gl immer ing sandTo where the bl ue of heaven on b luer waves shuts

down !

In l i st less quietude of mind,I y iel d to a l l

The change of c l oud and wave and wind ;And passi ve on the flood recl ined

,

I wander w i th the waves,and wi th them ri se

fa l l .

But l ook,thou dreamer — wave and shore

In shadow lie ;

The n i ght -Wind warns me back once moreTo where

,my nat i ve h i l l - tops o’

er,

Bends l i ke an arch of fire the gl ow ing sunset sky !

So then,beach

,bluff

,and wave

,farewel l !

I bear w ith me

N O token stone nor gl i ttering shel l,

But l ong and oft shal l Memorv te l l

O f th i s brief thoughtful hour of musing by

Sea .

JOH N GREEN LEAF WH ITT IER.

AMONG THE R O CKS .

O H, good gigant i c sm i le O

’the brown old earth

,

T hi s autumn morn ing ! How he sets his bones

To bask i ’ the sun,and th rusts out knees and feet

TH E S E A . 43 1

or the ri pp le to run over in i ts m i rth ;L i sten ing the wh i le

,where on the heap of stones

be wh i te breast of the sea - l ark tw i tters sweet .

hat is the doctr ine , s imple, anc ient , true ;S uch i s l i fe ’s tri a l

,as o ld earth sm i les and

knows .

f vou l oved on lv what were worth vour l ove,

ove were c lear ga in,and whol lv we l l for y ou

Make the low nature better bv vour th roes !

ive earth vourse lf. go up for ga in above !

RO B ERT BROWN ING .

TH E INC IICAP E R OCK .

N O st i r in the a ir,no st i r i ll the sea

,

The sh i p was as st i l l a s she coul d be ;Her sa i l s from heaven recei ved no mot ion ;H er keel was steadv in the ocean .

“'

i thout e i ther S i gn or sound of the i r shock

T he waves fl owed over the Inchcape rock ;S o l i tt le they rose

,so l i tt le they fel l

,

Thev d id not move the Inchcape bel l .

T he holy Abbot of Aberbrothok

H ad placed that hell on the Inchcape rock ;O n a buov in the storm i t floated and swung,And over the waves i ts warn ing rung .

Wh en the rock was h i d by the surges’ swel l ,The mariners heard the warn ing bel l ;And then they knew the peri l ous rock ,And b lessed the Abbot O f Aberbrothok.


The sun in heaven was sh in ing gay,A ll th ings were j oyfu l on that day ;The sea -b i rds screamed as they whee led around

,

And there was j oyance in the i r sound .

The buoy of the Inchcape hell was seen,A darker speck on the ocean green ;S ir R alph

,the rover

,walked h i s deck

,

And he fixed h i s eye on the darker speck .

He fel t the cheering power of spring,

I t made h im wh i st le,i t made h im s ing ;

H is heart was m irthfu l to excess ;But the rover ’s m i rth was w i ckedness .

H is eye was on the bel l and fl oat

Quoth he,My men

,put out the boat ;

And row me to the Inchcape rock,And I ’

ll p lague the priest of Aberbrothok.

”

The boat i s l owered, the boatmen row

And to the Inchcape rock they go ;S ir R alph bent over from the boat

,

And cut the warn ing bel l from the float .

D own sank the bel l w i th a gurgl ing sound ;The bubbles rose

,and bur st around .

Quoth S ir R alph,

“ The next who comes

rock

W'

i l l not bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok.

S ir R a l ph,the rover

,sa i led away

,

He scoured the seas for many a day ;


HOW ’S MY B OY ?

HO,sa i l or of the sea !

How ’s my boy—my boy? ”

“What ’s your boy’s name

, good w ife

And in what sh ip sa i led he ?”

My boy JOhn

He that went to sea

What care I for the sh ip , sa i l or ?

My boy’s my boy to me.

You come back from sea,

And not know my John ?

I might as wel l have asked some l andsman

Yonder down in the town .

There ’s not an ass in a l l the par i sh

But he knows mv John .

How’

s mv boy— my boy ?

And unless vou let me know

I ’ll swear you are no sa i l or,{ lue jacket or no

,

Brass buttons or no,sa i l or

Anchor and crown or no !

Sure h i s sh ip was the ‘Jollv Briton

“ S peak low . woman. speak l ow ! ”

And why shoul d I speak l ow ,sa i l or,

About my own bov John ?

If I was l oud as I am proud

THE S E A . 435

I ’d s ing h im over the town !

Why shou ld I speak l ow ,sa i l or ? ”

“ That good sh ip went down.

”

How’

s my boy—my boy ?

What ca te I for the sh i p,sa i l o r ?

I was never aboard her.

B e she afloa t or be she aground,

S ink ing or swimming ,I

’ll be bound

Her owners can a fford her !

I say , how’s my John ? ”

“E very man on board went down

,

E very man aboard her.

”

H ow ’s mv boy— mv boy "

“’ hat care I for the men,sa i l or ?

I ’m not the i r mother

How ’s my boy— m y boy ?

Te l l me of h im and no other !

How ’s my bov— mv boy ?

SYDNEY DOB ELL.

THE SA ILOR ’S CONSOLAT ION .

O NE night came on a hurri cane,

The sea was mounta ins ro l l ing

“’hen Barney Bunt l ine turned h i s qu id,And sa id to B illV Bowl ingA strong nor ’wester ’

s bl owing, Bi l l ;Hark ! don’t y e hear i t roar now ?

Lord hel p ’em

,how I p i t ies them

Unhappy folks on sh ore now !


Foolhardy chaps who l i ve in towns,

What danger they are a l l in,

And now lie quaking in thei r beds

For fear the roof sha l l fa ll in :

Poor creatures ! how they env ies us,

And wishes, I’ve a not i on,

For our good luck,in such a storm,

To be upon the ocean !

And as for them who ’re out a l l d ay

O n business from thei r houses,And l ate at n ight are coming home

To cheer thei r babes and Spouses,

VVhile you and I,Bi l l

,on the deck

Are comfortab ly ly ing,MV eyes ! what t i les and ch imney -pots

About thei r heads are fly ing !

And very O ften have we heard

How men are k i l led and undoneBy overturns of carri ages

,

By th ieves and fires in London .

We know what r i sks a l l l andsmen run

From noblemen to ta i l ors ;Then

,Bi l l

,let us thank Prov idence l

That you and I are sa i l ors .

W I LL IAM P ITT.

POOR JACK .

Go, patter to lubbers and swabs, do ye see,

’Bout danger . and fear . and the l i ke ;A t i ght -water boat

’

and good sea - room giveAnd i t a ’

n’t to a ~ l ittle I ’l l stri ke.


And i f to ol d D avy I shou ld go, fr iend P ol l ,You never wi l l hear of me more.

What then ? All’s a hazard : come, don

’t be so

soft :

Perhaps I may laugh ing come back ;For

,d ’ ye see, there

’s a cherub S i ts sm i l ing a loft,

To keep watch for the l i fe of poor Jack !”

D’

ye mind me, a sa i lor shou l d be every inch

A ll as one as a p iece of the sh ip ,

And with her brave the world , not offer ing to

fl inch

From the moment the anchor ’s a - trip .

As for me,in al l weathers

,a l l ti mes, s ides, and

ends,

Naught ’s a trouble from duty that springs,

For mv heart i s my Pol l ’s,and my rh ino ’

s my

friend ’s,

And as for my w i l l,

’t i s the k ing’s .

E ven when my t ime comes,ne

’er bel ieve me so

soft

AS for grief to be taken aback ;For the same l i tt le cherub that s i ts up a loft

Wi l l l ook out a good berth for poor Jack !CH ARLE S D I RD I N .

THE MAR INE R ’S DR E AM.

IN slumbers of midn ight the sa i l or -boy l ay ;H is hammock swung l oose at the sport of the

“find ;

And Vl S lons O f happ iness danced o’er h i s m ind .

THE S E A . 439

He d ream t of his home, of h is dea r na ti ve bowers .

And plea sures that wa i ted on l i fe'

s merrv morn ,

Wh i le Memory s tood s ideways . ha l f covered wi th

flowers,

And res tored everv ros e. but se c re ted its thorn .

Then Fancy he r magi ca l p ini ons s p lc ad wi de .

And bade the young dreamer in ecs ta sy ri se ;Now fa r. fa r beh ind h im the green wa ters gl ide ,And the cot of his forefathers blesse s his eves .

The jessa ln ine c lambers in fl owers o’

er the tha tch .

And the swa l l ow ch i rps swee t from her nest il l

the wa l l ;A l l trembl ing w i th transpor t he ra i ses the la tch ,

And the vo i ces of l oved ones rep l y to h is ca l l .

A fa ther bend s o’

er h im wi th look s of de l igh t ;H is cheek i s impearled w i th a mother

’

s wa rm

tear ;And the l i ps of the boy in a l ove -k i ss un i te

Wi th the l i ps of the ma id whom h i s bosom

ho l d s dear .

T he heart of the s leeper beats h igh in h i s b reas t ;Joy qu i ckens h i s pu l se

,a l l h i s hardsh ips seem

o er ;

And a murmur of happ iness stea l s th rough h i s

rest,

"

0 God ! thou hast blest me,—I ask fo r no

more .

Ah ! whence i s that flame wh i ch now bursts on

h i s eye?

Ah ! what i s that sound wh i ch now l a rums h i s

ear ?

440 POEMS OF NATUR E

’T i s the l ightn ing’s red gl are, pa int ing hel l on

the sky !’T i s the crash of the thunder, the groan of the

sphere !

He Springs from h i s hammock,he fl ies to the

deck ;Amazement confronts h im with images d i re ;Wi l d winds and mad waves dr i ve the vessel a

wreck :

The masts fly in sp l inters ; the Shrouds are on

fire .

L ike mounta ins the b i l l ows tremendously swe l l °

In va in the l ost wretch ca l l s on mercy to save ;Unseen hands of Sp iri ts are r inging h i s kne l l

,

And the death -angel flaps h i s broad w ing o'

er

the wave !

0 sa i lor -bov,woe to thy dream O f del i ght !

In darkness d i sso l ves the gay frost -work of

bl i ss .

“’here now i s the p i cture that Fancy touchedbright

,

Thy parents’ fond pressure

,and l ove’s honeyed

k i ss ?

0 sa i l or-boy ! sa i l or -boy ! never aga inSha l l home, l ove, or k indred thy w i shes repay ;

Unblessed and unhonored , down deep in the main,

Ful l many a fathom,thy frame sha l l decay

NO tomb shal l e’er plead to remembrance for thee,


L i sten alone bes ide the sea,

L i sten alone among the woods ;Those vo i ces of twin so l i tudes

S ha l l have one sound a l ike to theeHark where the murmurs of throngedSurge and s ink back and surge aga in

S t i l l the one voi ce of wave and tree.

Gather a shel l from the strown beach

And l i sten at i ts l ips :they s igh

The same des i re and mystery,

The echo of the whole sea ’s speech .

And al l mank ind i s thus at heartNot any th ing but what thou art

And E arth,Sea

,Man

,are a l l in each .

DANTE GABR IEL ROSSETTI.

IND EX : AUT HO R S AND T IT LES .

446 AUTHORS AND TITLE S .

B ENTON ,JOE L .

December

S ea l let Tanager, The

B LAKE ,) VILLIAM.

T iger, The

B LL'

NT,WILFR ED SCAWEN .

O as is of S idi Khaled ,The

O ld Squire, The

B OWEN . JOHN E L IOT .

Fodder-T ime (German of Carmen S y lva )

B OWLE S ,WILL IA ML ISLE .

Come to these scenes of peace

On the R hine

B RA INARD , JOHN GAR D INER CALKINS .

Fall of N iagara ,The

B R IDGE S . R OB E RT SE YMOUR .

Asian B irds

Sea P oppy, The

BROOKS , CHARLE S T IMOTHY .

Harvest Song ( German of B Olty )Winter ( German of C laudius )Winter Song (German of B olty )

BROWNE , WILL IAM.

Hunted Squirrel, The (B ri tannia’

s P astora ls )

BROWNING,R OB ERT .

God in NatureHome Thoughts from Abroad

BRYANT ,JOHN HOWARD .

Va lley B rook,The

Winter

BRYANT , \VILLIAM CULLEN .

Death of the Flowers,The

E vening Wind , TheForest Hymn,

AF r inged Gentian

,To the

June

P lanting of the Apple T ree, TheR obert of L incolnS now- S hower . The

To a

BURNS , RO B ERT .

A fton Wa te r

Louse , To a

Mounta in Da isy ,To a

Mouse,To a

B UR ROUGHS . JOHN .

La pland Longspur, To the

BURTON , R ICHARD .

P ola r Ques t , T he

BYRON , GE ORGE NO E L GORDON,LO RD .

Ca lm on Lake Leman ( Ch ilde Harold )E ven ing ( Don Juan )N ight ( Childe H arold )S ea , The Harold )S torm in the A lps ( Ch ilde Harold )Swimm ing ( Two F oscari )Wreck. The (D on Juan )

CAMP B E LL . THOMAS .

E ven ing S ta r, To the

Ye mariners of E ngland

CARDL'

CCI. G IO SUE.

Ox, The ( S ewa ll’

s Trans la tion )

CAR EW. THOMAS .

Sweetly brea thing, vernal a ir

CARMAN . B L IS S .

Graved igger, The

More Ancient Mariner, A

CHALKHILL , JOHN .

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

CHANNING . WILL IAM E LLERY .

Our boat to the waves

CHAPMAN , GE ORGE .

Camp at N ight, The (Greek of Homer )

CHAUCER . GE OFFRE Y .

Da isy , The (L egend of Good Women )Morning in May

CHERRY , ANDREW.

B ay of B iscay, The

CHOR LE Y , HENRY FOTHE RGILL .

B rave O ld Oak, The


CLARE ,JOHN .

Summer Moods

CLAUD IUS ,MATTH IAS .

Winter (B rooks’

Trans lation )

COLE R IDGE ,HARTLEY .

Summer R a in

COLE R IDGE ,SAMUE L TAYLOR .

Fancy in Nubibus

COOKE . PH IL IP PENDLETONLife in the Autumn Woods

COOKE ,R OSE TERRY .

Tra iling Arbutus

COOLB R ITH ,INA DONNA .

Copa de O ro

Mariposa L ily, The

COOPE R , JAME S FENIMORE .

My B rigantine“

( The’

Wa l er Wi tch )

COWLEY,AB RAHAM.

Hymn to L ight, From the

COWP ER , WILL IAM.

Unmus ical B irds ( The Task )“7inter Morning ( The Task )

CRANCH,CHR ISTOPHER PEAR SE .

B obolinks,The

CRASHAW,R ICHARD .

N ightingale’

s Song, The (Music’

s Duel )

CROSS , MARY ANN EVANS LEWE S (George E liot )Day Is dy ing

”

( Spanish Gypsy )

CUNNINGHAM,ALLAN .

A wet sheet and a flowing sea

CUNNINGHAM,JOHN .

Morning

DANA , R ICHARD HENRY.

L ittle B each B ird, The

P leasure- B oat . The

DANIE L . SAMUEL .

Delia, ,To

FLAGG ,WILSON .

O’

L incoln Fam ily ,The

FOSD ICK, WILL IAM WHITEMAN .

Ma iz e, The

FOSTER ,WILL IAM PR E SCOTT .

S ilence of the H ills , The

FRE IL IGR ATH ,FERD INAND .

L ion’

s R ide,The (Trans lation )

GALE ,NORMAN .

Country Fa ith,The

GE OGHEGAN ,ARTHUR GER ALD .

Mounta in Fern,The

GILDER ,R ICHARD WATSON .

Dawn (F ive B ooks of S ong )Great nature is an army gay (F ive B ooks ofSong)

GILMAN , CHARLOTTE PERKINS STETSON .

R ock and the Sea , The

GOODALE,DORA RE AD .

GRAY , DAVID .

“ D ie down,0 d ismal day

0 Winter ! wilt thou never go

GRAY,THOMAS .

P leasure Arising from Vici ssitude, Ode on theSpring

GUINEY,LOU ISE IMOGEN .

To a Dog’

s Memory

HARD INGE , WILL IAM M.

Wreath, The (Greek of Meleager )

HAR PUR , CHARLE S .

Midsummer’

s Noon in the Australian Forest, A“ARTE [FRANCIS ] BR E T .

Chiqui ta

AUTHORS AND TITLES .

HART E , WALTER .

Soli loquy , A

HAYN E ,PA L'

L HAMI LT ON .

S torm in the D is tance ,A

HEMAN S ,FELIC IA DO ROT IIEA B ROWNE .

T rea s ure s of the D eep,T he

HENLEY , WI LLIAM E RN E ST .

B a llade of Midsummer Days and N ights

HE RR ICK, R O B ERT .

B los som s,To

Da tl'

od ils,To

V iole ts,To

HEYWO OD ,THOMA S .

l’ack clou

‘

ds away

H IGG IN SO N ,THOMAS VVENTWO RTH .

T he snowing of the pines”

HOGG . JAME S .

Sky lark ,T he

HO LME S,O L IVE R W'

END E LLChambe red Naut ilus

, The

Insect,To an

P loughman,The

HoLTY,LUDWIG HE INR ICH CHR ISTOPH .

Ha rvest Song ( B rooks’

Trans la tion )Winter Song ( B rooks

’

Trans la tion )

HOME R .

Camp at N ight, The ( Chapman’

s Trans la tion ) ,

HOOD . THOMAS .

F lowers

No

HORNE , R ICHARD HENRY HENG IST .

P lough ,The

HOVEY . R ICHARD .

Faun,The

HO \VITT , MARY .

Use of Flowers , The

HOWITT,WILL IAM .

Departure of the Swallow TheS umm er Noon A

C)!

"1 ? AUTHORS AND TITLE S .

IIUMI] , ALEXANDER .

S tory of a Summer Day, The

IIUN '

,I‘ LE IGH .

r

Grasshoppe 1 and the C 1 icket, f o the

JENNE R ,DR . EDWARD .

S igns of R a in

JOHNSON ,R OB ERT UNDERWOOD .

September Violet, A (P oems )

JONE S ,E B ENE Z ER .

R a in

KEATS ,JOHN .

Grasshopper and the Cricket, The

KINGSLEY,CHARLE S .

Song of the R iver

KRUMMACHER ,FR IEDR ICH WILHELM.

Moss R ose, The (Trans lation ) a

LAMB,CHARLE S .

Housekeeper, The

LAMP MAN,ARCH IBALD .

E vening

LANDOR . WALTER SAVAGE .

L ife of Flowers . The

Shell,The (Gebir )

LANG . ANDREW.

Cloud Chorus , The (Greek of Aristophanes )LANIER

, S IDNEY .

Sunrise : A Hymn of the Marshes

LEYDEN,JOHN .

LOGAN , JOHN .

Cuckoo,To the

LONGFE LLO\V,HENRY WADSWORTH .

Daybreak

FIO \\ O I S

Hymn to the N ightMoonlight on the P rai 1 ie (E vangeline )I’ 1 i 1 nm a l Fm est, The (E vangeline )R a in in Summer


P AGE.

NORTON ,CAROL INE E . S . SHER IDAN (LADY

STIRLING-MAXWELL )A 1 ab to his Favorite Steed, The

OLDYS , WILL IAM.

Fly ,The

PECK, SAMUEL MINTURN .

Sassafras

PERCIVAL ,JAME S GATE S .

Seneca Lake, To

PETTEE , G . W.

P ITT ,WILL IAM.

Sailor’

s Consolation, The

POLLOK,R OB ERT .

O cean (The Course of Time )

PROCTER BRYAN WALLER (B arry Cornwa ll ) .

Address to the OceanB lood Horse

,The

Hunter’

s Song, TheOwl, The

Sea,The

R ILEY,JAME S WH ITCOMB .

F irst B lue -B ird,The

Knee- deep in June

When the frost is on the punkin

ROBERTS, CHARLE S GEORGE DOUGLAS .

Flight of the Geese, The

In the wide awe and wisdom of the nightShore

, The (Ariadne )Solitary Woodsman

, The

ROCHE. JAME S JEFFREY.

Kearsarge, The

ROGER S , SAMUEL .

Alpine Descent, AnRONSARD . P IERRE DE .

R eturn of Spring (Trans la tion )

AUTHORS . IND TITLE S . 45.

RO S S ETT I , DANTE GAB R IE L.

Sea -Lim its ,T he

Wood spurge ,The

S ANGSTE R . CHAR LE S .

SARG ENT , E I’E S .

" A life on the ocean “a re

SAVAG E GE ORGE FRANC I S .

W1 cklow Wind s ( Il'

icklow)

scor r,CLEMENT WI LLIAM.

SCO TT ,DUNCAN CAMP B E LL .

E nd O f the Day ,The

S COTT ,S IR

He lvellyn

Hunt ing SongS tag Hunt . The ( Lady of the L ake )

FRANK.

Ox. The ( Ita lia n Of Ca rducci )

SHAKE S P E AR E , “'

ILL IAM.

Dover C l ill’

(King Lea r )Greenwood T ree . T he

Ha rk. hark ! the lark ( Cymbeline )When icicles hang by the wa ll

”

( Love’

s Labor’

s

Los t ) 1

SHARP E , R .S

.

Minute-Gun . The a

S HE LLEY,P E RCY BYS SHE

Autumn : A D irge

C loud ,The

E arth. O cean , Air (A las tor )“Mont B lanc,

” From 2

N ight (Queen JIab )N ight . To

Question . The

Sky lark ,The

Sunset (Queen JIab )West Wind

, Ode to the l

S IGOURNE Y ,LYD IA HL

’

NTLEY .

Coral Insects , The

S ILL ,EDWARD R O\YLAND .

AUTHORS AND TITLE S .

SIMMS ,WILL IAM GILMOR E .

G rape-V ine Swing, The

SMITH,HORACE .

Hymn to the F lowers

SOUTHEY ROB ERT

Holly-Tree The

Inchcape R ock, The

SPENCER ,lVILLIAM R OB ERT .

B eth Gelert

SPRAGUE . CHARLE S .

Winged Worshippers , The

STANTON ,FRANK LE B BY .

Mocking-B ird , The

STEDMAN ,EDMUND CLAR ENCE .

B etrothed AnewSTE RLING,

JOHN .

B eautiful Day , On a

STEVENS ,GE ORGE ALE XANDER .

S torm ,The

SWINBURNE ,ALGERNON CHARLE S .

D isappointed LOVel , The

Forsaken Ga 1 den,A

hen the hounds O f spl ingTAB B

, JOHN B ANISTER .

Ind ian Summer-L ily ,

The

TANNAH ILL . R OB ERT .

“The m idges dance aboon the burn

TAYLOR , B AYARD .

A rab to the P a lm,The

TAYLOR , B ENJAMIN FRANKL IN .

Northern L ights , The

TAYLOR . S IR HENRY .

Wind and the P ine-T ree,The (E dwi n the F air )

TENNYSON , ALFRED ,LORD .

B lackbird , The

B ugle , The ( The P rincess )Dy ing Swan,

TheFina le . The

AS onw o f the B i ook ( The B rook : an Idy l )S pi im

r ( In ll u non am )

0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

WORDSWORTH ,WILL IAM.

Cuckoo, To the

Da ffodilsInfluence of Natural Objects ( The P relude )March

My heart leaps up

Sea Shell, The ( The E xcurs ion )

Skylark, To the

Tables Turned, The

The world is too much with us

T intern Abbey

WOTTON , SIR HENRY .

In P ra ise of Angl ingYEATS . WILL IAM BUTLE R .

Indian Song, An

Lake Isle O f Innisfree, T he

ANONYMOUS .

F lotsam and Jetsam

Our Skater B elle

R emonstrance with the Sna ils

Stormy Petrel . Lines to the

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