Volume Iii Part 36 (1/2)

Ere a leaf is on a bush, In the time before the thrush Has a thought about her nest, Thou wilt come with half a call, Spreading out thy glossy breast Like a careless Prodigal; Telling tales about the sun, When we've little warmth, or none.

Poets, vain men in their mood!

Travel with the mult.i.tude: Never heed them; I aver That they all are wanton wooers; But the thrifty cottager, Who stirs little out of doors, Joys to spy thee near her home; Spring is coming, Thou art come!

Comfort have thou of thy merit, Kindly, una.s.suming Spirit!

Careless of thy neighborhood, Thou dost show thy pleasant face On the moor, and in the wood, In the lane;--there's not a place, Howsoever mean it be, But 'tis good enough for thee.

Ill befall the yellow flowers, Children of the flaring hours!

b.u.t.tercups, that will be seen, Whether we will see or no; Others, too, of lofty mien; They have done as worldings do, Taken praise that should be thine, Little, humble Celandine!

Prophet of delight and mirth, Ill-requited upon earth; Herald of a mighty band, Of a joyous train ensuing, Serving at my heart's command, Tasks that are no tasks renewing, I will sing, as dost behove, Hymns in praise of what I love!

William Wordsworth [1770-1850]

FOUR-LEAF CLOVER

I know a place where the sun is like gold, And the cherry blossoms burst with snow, And down underneath is the loveliest nook, Where the four-leaf clovers grow.

One leaf is for hope, and one is for faith, And one is for love, you know, And G.o.d put another in for luck,-- If you search, you will find where they grow.

But you must have hope, and you must have faith, You must love and be strong--and so, If you work, if you wait, you will find the place Where the four-leaf clovers grow.

Ella Higginson [1862-

SWEET CLOVER

Within what weeks the melilot Gave forth its fragrance, I, a lad, Or never knew or quite forgot, Save that 'twas while the year is glad.

Now know I that in bright July It blossoms; and the perfume fine Brings back my boyhood, until I Am steeped in memory as with wine.

Now know I that the whole year long, Though Winter chills or Summer cheers, It writes along the weeks its song, Even as my youth sings through my years.

Wallace Rice [1859-

”I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD”

I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that s.h.i.+ne And twinkle in the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed--and gazed--but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: