See how the level rays Through the white garments pour Wait, wait, ye lingering rays, The pierced Savior trod; A CHILD HER voice was like the song of birds; And when those waving hands were still, The music faded from the air, The color from the day. TWO VALLEYS YES, 't is a glorious sight, This valley, that mountain hight. The river plunges and roars WASHINGTON SQUARE What time in waves enorm The wooded mount doth climb The glory of all I feel; But my heart, my heart, will steal Down the journey of years, Through the lands of laughter and tears, Far back to the least of valleys Where a slow brook curves and dallies, Where a boy, in the twilight gleam, ON THE BAY THIS watery vague how vast! This misty globe, WASHINGTON SQUARE THIS is the end of the town that I love the best. 219 Of light that lingers and fades in the shadowy square Where the solemn fountain lifts a shaft in the air To catch the skyey colors, and fling them down In a wild-wood torrent that drowns the noise of the town. And lovely the hour of the still and dreamy night Through the light of the moon and the stars and the glowing flower,— The Cross of Light,- that looms from the sacred tower. THE CITY O, DEAR is the song of the pine When the wind of the night-time blows, And dear is the murmuring river That afar through my childhood flows; And soft is the raindrop's beat And the fountain's lyric play, But to me no music is half so sweet Stream of the living world Where dash the billows of strife! One plunge in the mighty torrent Is a year of tamer life! City of glorious days, Of hope, and labor, and mirth, With room, and to spare, on thy splendid bays For the ships of all the earth! A RHYME OF TYRINGHAM A RHYME OF TYRINGHAM Down in the meadow and up on the hight In Tyringham, Tyringham Valley. The river winds through the trees and the brake In Tyringham, Tyringham Valley. In the shadowy pools the trout are shy, What thrills and tremors the tense cords stir At dark of the day the mist spreads white, 221 Or the winds from the meadow the white mists blow, And the fireflies glitter, a sky below,― In Tyringham, Tyringham Valley. And O, in the windy days of the fall The maples and elms are scarlet all, And the world that was green is gold and red, Now squirrel and partridge and hawk and hare The three days' hunt is waxing warm For the Count Up Dinner at Riverside Farm The meadow-ice will be freezing soon, And then for a skate by the light of the moon. By the light of the hearth and the moon, my boy, ELSIE "Do you love me?" Elsie asked, "Do you love me?" scarce aloud |