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WINTER

The snap of his tremendous bill was like

TO A BIRD Death's scythe, down - cutting everything it struck.

THAT HAUNTED THE WATERS OF LAAKEN IN THE The heedless lizard, in his gambols, peeped Cpon the guarded nest, from out the flowers,

TO MELANCHOLY bird, a winter's day But paid the instant forfeit of his life;

Thou standest by the margin of the poor, Nor could the serpent's subtlety elude

And, taught by God, dost thy whole being school Capture, when gliding by, nor in defence

To patience, which all evil can allay. Might his malignant fangs and venom save him. God has appointed thee the fish thy prey,

| And given thyself a lesson to the fool Erelong the thriving brood outgrew their cra- ! Unthrifty, to submit to moral rule, dle,

And his unthinking course by thee to weigh. Ran through the grass, and dabbled in the There need not schools nor the professor's chair, pools;

Though these be good, true wisdiom to impart : No sooner denizens of earth than made

He who has not enough for these to spare, Free both of air and water ; day by day,

Of time or gold, may yet amend his heart, New lessons, exercises, and amusements

And teach his soul by brooks and rivers fair, Employed the old to teach, the young to learn. Nature is always wise in every part.

LORD THURLOW.
Now floating on the blue lagoon behold them ;
The sire and dam in swan-like beauty steering,
Their cyguets following through the foamy wake,
Picking the leaves of plants, pursuing insects,

TO A WATERFOWL.
Or catching at the bubbles as they broke :
Till on some minor fry, in reedy shallows,
With flapping pinions and unsparing beaks,

Wuther, midst falling dew,

While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, The well-taught scholars plied their double art,

e art,

for

Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue To fish in troubled waters, and secure

Thy solitary way?
The petty captives in their maiden pouches;
Then hurried with their banquet to the shore,

J Vainly the fowler's eye
With feet, wings, breast, hall swimming and

" Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, half flying Bat when their pens grew strong to fight the

hel As, darkly painted on the crimson sky,

Thy figure floats along.
storm,
And buffet with the breakers on the reef,
The parents put them to severer proof;

Seek'st thou the plashy brink

Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, On beetling rocks the little ones were mar

Or where the rocking billows rise and sink shalled; There, by endearments, stripes, example, urged

On the chased ocean side ? To try the void convexity of heaven,

There is a Power whose care And plough the ocean's horizontal field.

Teaches thy way along that pathless coast, Timorous at first they fluttered round the verge,

* The desert and illimitable air, Balanced and furled their hesitating wings, Then put them forth again with steadier aim ;

Lone wandering, but not lost.
Now, gaining courage as they felt the wind

All day thy wings have fanned,
Dilate their feathers, fill their airy frames
With buoyancy that bore them from their feet,

At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere,

| Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, They yielded all their burden to the breeze, And sailed and soared where'er their guardians

Though the dark night is near. led ;

And soon that toil shall end; Ascending, hovering, wheeling, or alighting,

Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, They searched the deep in quest of nobler game

And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend, Than yet their inexperience had encountered ; With these they battled in that element,

Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest. Where wings or fins were equally at home,

Thou 'rt gone, the abyss of heaven Till, conquerors in many a desperate strife,

- Hath swallowed up thy form ; yet, on my heart They dragged their spoils to land, and gorged at :

Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, leisure.

JAMES MONTGOMERY.' And shall not soon depart:

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

He who, from zone to zone,

| The halcyon loves in the noontide beam Guides through the boundless sky thy certain To follow his sport on the tranquil stream flight,

He fishes at case
In the long way that I must tread alone,

In the summer breeze,
Will lead my steps aright.

| But we go angling in storniest seas.
No song-note have we but a piping cry,
That blends with the storm when the wind is high.

When the land-birds wail
THE STORMY PETREL.

We sport in the gale,
A TIIOUSAND miles from land are we,

And merrily over the ocean we sail.

AXOXYUOUS.
Tossing about on the stormy sea, --
From billow to bounding billow cast,
Like Bleccy snow on the stormy blast.

THE OWL. .
The sails are scattered abroad like weeds ;
The strong masts shake like quivering reeds; In the hollow tree, in the old gray tower,
The mighty cables and iron chains,

The spectral owl doth dwell;
The hull, which all carthly strength disdains, – Dull, hated, despised, in the sunshine hour,
They strain and they crack; and hearts like stone But at dusk he's abroad and well!
Their natural, hard, proud strength disown. Not a bird of the forest c'er mates with him ;

All mock liim outright by day; Up and down ! — up and down !

But at night, when the wooils grow still and dim, From the base of the wave to the billow's crown, The boldest will shrink away! And amidst the flashing and feathery foam

0, when the night falls, and roosts the forel, The story petrel finds a home,

Then, then, is the reign of the horned owl ! A home, if such a place may be For her who lives on the wide, wide sea, | And the owl hath a bride, who is fond and bold, On the craggy ice, in the frozen air,

And loveth the wood's deep glooin; And only seeketh her rocky lair

And, with eyes like the shine of the moonstonecold, To warm her young, and to teach them to spring She awaiteth her ghastly groom ; At once o'er the waves on their stormy wing! Not a feather she moves, not a carol she sings,

As she waits in her tree so still ; O'er the deep!- o'er the deep!

But when her heart heareth his slapping wings, Where the whale and the shark and the sword | She hoots out her welcomc shrill ! fish sleep,

0, when the moon shines, and dogs do loul, Outlying the blast and the driving rain,

Then, then, is the joy of the horned oul ! The petrel telleth her tale – in vain; For the mariner curseth the warning bird Mourn not for the owl, nor his gloomy plight ! Which bringeth him news of the storm unheard !! The owl hath his share of good :

w Ah ! thus docs the prophet of good or ill

or ill

If a prisoner he be in the broad daylight,
Meet hate from the creatures de serveth still; ' He is lord in the dark greenwood !
Yet he ne'er falters, — so, petrel, spring Nor lonely the bird, nor his ghastly mate,
Once more o'er the waves on thy stormy wing! They are each unto each a pride;

Thrice fonder, perhaps, since a strange, dark fate
Hath rent them from all besiile !

So, when the night falls, and dogs do houi, LINES TO THE STORMY PETREL. Sing, ho! for the reign of the horned owl !

Wc know not alway THE lark sings for joy in her own loved land,

Who are kings by day, In the furrowed field, by the breezes fanned ;

But thcking of the night is the boldbrown ael!
And so revel we

In the furrowed sea,
As joyous and glad as the lark can be. ..

TO THE HUMBLE-BEE.
On the placid breast of the inland lake,
The wild duck delights her pastime to take;

Burly, dlozing humble-bee !
But the petrel braves

Where thou art is clime for me ;
The wild ocean waves,

Let them sail for Porto Rique,
His wing in the foaming billow he laves.

Far-off heats througlı seas to seek,

BARRY CORNWALL.

BARRY CORNWALL.

I will follow thee alone,
Thou animated torrid zone !
Zigzag steerer, desert cheerer,
Let me chase thy waving lines;
Keep me nearer, mc thy hearer,
Singing over shrubs and vines.

Thou already slumberest deep; Woe and want thou canst outsleep;

Want and woc, which torture us, Thy sleep makes ridiculous.

RALPH WALDO EMERSON.

A SOLILOQUY.

Insect lover of the sun,
Joy of thy dominion !
Sailor of the atmosphero;
Swimmer through the waves of air,
Voyager of light and noon,
Epicurean of June !
Wait, I prithce, till I come
Within earshot of thy hum, –
All without is martyrdom,
When the south-wind, in May days,
With a net of shining haze
Silvers the horizon wall;
And, with softness touching all,
Tints the human countenance
With the color of romance ;
And infusing subtle heats
Turns the sod to violets, –
Thou in sunny solitudes,
Rover,of the underwoods,
The green silence dost displace
With thy mellow breczy bass.

OCCASIONED BY THE CHIRPING OF A GRASSHOPPER.

Harry insect! ever blest
With a more than mortal rest,
Rosy dews the leaves among,
Humble joys, and gentle song!
Wretched poct! ever curst
With a life of lives the worst,
Sad despondence, restless fears,
Endless jealousies and tears.

In the burning summer thou
Warblest on the verdant bough,
Meditating cheerful play,
Mindless of the piercing ray ;
Scorched in Cupid's fervors, I
Ever weep and ever dic.

Proud to gratify thy will,
Ready Nature waits thce still ;
Balmy wines to thee she pours,
Weeping through the dewy flowers,
Rich as those by Hebe given
To the thirsty sons of heaven.

Yet, alas, we both agrec.
Miserable thou like me!
Each, alike, in youth rehearses
Gentle strains and tender verses ;
Ever wandering far from home,
Mindless of the days to como
(Such as aged Winter brings
Trembling on his icy wings),
Both aliko at last we die;
Thou art starved, and so am I!

Hot midsummer's petted crone,
Sweet to me thy drowsy tone
Tells of countless sunny hours,
Long days, and solid banks of flowers ;
Of gulfs of siveetness without bound,
In Indian wildernesses found;
Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure,
Firmest cheer, and birdlike pleasure.

WALTER HARTE.

THE GRASSHOPPER.

Aught unsavory or unclean
Hath my insect never seen ;
But violets, and bilberry bells,
Maple sap, and daffodels,
Grass with green flag half-mast high,
Succory to match the sky,
Columbine with horn of honey,
Scented fern, and agrimony,
Clover, catchfly, adder's-tongue,
And brier-roses, dwelt among :
All besiile was unknown waste,
All was picture as he passed.
Wiser far than human scer,
Yellow-breeched philosopher,
Seeing only what is fair,

Sipping only what is swect,
Thou dost mock at fate and care,

Leave the chaff and take the whcat. When the fierce northwestern blast Cools sea and land so far and fast, —

Harry insect, what can be
In happiness compared to thec?
Fed with nourishment divine,
The dewy morning's gentle winc !
Nature waits upon thee still,
And thy verdant cup does fill;
'Tis filled wherever thou dost trcad,
Naturc self's thy Ganymede.
Thou dlost drink and dance and sing,
Happier than the happiest king!
All the fields which thou dost sce,
All the plants belong to thec;
All the summer hours produce,

Fertile made with early juice.

| Both have your sunshine ; both, though small, Man for thee does sow and plough,

are strong Fariner he, and landlord thou !

At your clear hearts; and both seem given to Thou dost innocently enjoy,

, earth

" Nor does thy luxury destroy

To sing in thoughtful ears this natural song, The shepherd gladly heareth thee,

In doors and out, summer and winter, mirth.

LEIGH HUNT.
More harmonious than he.
Thee country hinds with gladness hear,
Prophet of the ripened year!
Thee Phæbus loves, and docs inspire;

THE CRICKET.
Phæbus is himself thy sire.
To thee, of all things upon earth,

LITTLE inmate, full of mirth,
Life is no longer than thy mirth.

Chirping on my kitchen hearth, Happy insect! happy thou,

Wheresoe'er be thine abode Dost neither age nor winter know;

Always harbinger of good, But when thou 'st drunk and danced and sung

Pay me for thy warm' retreat Thy fill, the flowery leaves among,

With a song more soft and sweet; (Voluptuous and wise withal,

In return thou shalt receive Epicurean animal !)

Such a strain as I can give. Sated with thy summer feast,

Thus thy praise shall be expressed,
Thou retir'st to endless rest.

Inoffensive, welcome guest !
ANACREON (Greek). Translation of
ABRAHAM COWLEY.

While the rat is on the scout,
And the mouse with curious snout,
With what vermin else infest

Every dish, and spoil the best ;
THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET.

Frisking thus before the fire,

Thou hast all thy heart's desire.
The poetry of earth is never dead;
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun

Though in voice and shape they be
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run

Formed as if akin to thee, From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead. Thou surpassest, happier far, That is the grasshopper's, — he takes the lead

Happiest grasshoppers that are ; In summer luxury, — he has never done

Theirs is but a summer's song, — With his delights ; for, when tired out with fun, Thine endures the winter long, He rests at case beneath some pleasant weed.

Unimpaired and shrill and clear,
The poetry of earth is ceasing never.

Melody throughout the year.
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
The cricket's song, in warmth increasing cver,
And seems, to one in drowsiness half lost,

KATYDID.
The grasshopper's among some grassy hills.

I LOVE to hear thine earnest voice,

Wherever thou art hid,
Thou testy little dogmatist,

Thou pretty Katydid !
THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET.

Thou mindest me of gentlefolks, –

Old gentlefolks are they, — GREEN little vaulter in the sunny grass,

Thou say'st an undisputed thing
Catching vour heart up at the feel of June, -

In such a solemn way.
Sole voice that's hcard amidst the lazy noon
When even the bees lag at the summoning brass; Thou art a female, Katydid !
And you, warm little housekeeper, who class,

I know it by the trill
With those who think the candles come too soon, That quivers through thy piercing notes,
Loving the fire, and with your tricksome tune

So petulant and shrill. Nick the glad silent moments as they pass !

I think there is a knot of you

Beneath the hollow tree, O sweet and tiny cousins, that belong,

A knot of spinster Katydids, One to the fields, the other to the hearth,

Do Katydids drink tea ?

WILLIAM COWPER

JOHN KEATS.

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