Volume Iii Part 11 (2/2)

In the deep heart of every forest tree The blood is all aglee, And there's a look about the leafless bowers As if they dreamed of flowers.

Yet still on every side we trace the hand Of Winter in the land, Save where the maple reddens on the lawn, Flushed by the season's dawn;

Or where, like those strange semblances we find That age to childhood bind, The elm puts on, as if in Nature's scorn, The brown of Autumn corn.

As yet the turf is dark, although you know That, not a span below, A thousand germs are groping through the gloom, And soon will burst their tomb.

Already, here and there, on frailest stems Appear some azure gems, Small as might deck, upon a gala day, The forehead of a fay.

In gardens you may note amid the dearth, The crocus breaking earth; And near the snowdrop's tender white and green, The violet in its screen.

But many gleams and shadows needs must pa.s.s Along the budding gra.s.s, And weeks go by, before the enamored South Shall kiss the rose's mouth.

Still there's a sense of blossoms yet unborn In the sweet airs of morn; One almost looks to see the very street Grow purple at his feet.

At times a fragrant breeze comes floating by, And brings, you know not why, A feeling as when eager crowds await Before a palace gate

Some wondrous pageant; and you scarce would start, If from a beech's heart A blue-eyed Dryad, stepping forth, should say, ”Behold me! I am May!”

Henry Timrod [1829-1867]

THE MEADOWS IN SPRING

'Tis a dull sight To see the year dying, When winter winds Set the yellow wood sighing: Sighing, oh! sighing.

When such a time cometh, I do retire Into an old room Beside a bright fire: Oh, pile a bright fire!

And there I sit Reading old things, Of knights and lorn damsels, While the wind sings-- Oh, drearily sings!

I never look out Nor attend to the blast; For all to be seen Is the leaves falling fast: Falling, falling!

But close at the hearth, Like a cricket, sit I, Reading of summer And chivalry-- Gallant chivalry!

Then with an old friend I talk of our youth!

How 'twas gladsome, but often Foolish, forsooth: But gladsome, gladsome!

Or to get merry We sing some old rhyme, That made the wood ring again In summer time-- Sweet summer time!

Then go we to smoking, Silent and snug: Naught pa.s.ses between us, Save a brown jug-- Sometimes!

And sometimes a tear Will rise in each eye, Seeing the two old friends So merrily-- So merrily!

And ere to bed Go we, go we, Down on the ashes We kneel on the knee, Praying together!

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