Volume Iii Part 71 (2/2)

O my beloved rocks, that rise To awe the earth and brave the skies!

From some aspiring mountain's crown How dearly do I love, Giddy with pleasure to look down; And from the vales to view the n.o.ble heights above; O my beloved caves! from dog-star's heat, And all anxieties, my safe retreat; What safety, privacy, what true delight, In the artificial light Your gloomy entrails make, Have I taken, do I take!

How oft, when grief has made me fly, To hide me from society E'en of my dearest friends, have I, In your recesses' friendly shade, All my sorrows open laid, And my most secret woes intrusted to your privacy!

Lord! would men let me alone, What an over-happy one Should I think myself to be-- Might I in this desert place, (Which most men in discourse disgrace) Live but undisturbed and free!

Here, in this despised recess, Would I, maugre Winter's cold, And the Summer's worst excess, Try to live out to sixty full years old, And, all the while, Without an envious eye On any thriving under Fortune's smile, Contented live, and then contented die.

Charles Cotton [1630-1687]

THE COUNTRY FAITH

Here in the country's heart, Where the gra.s.s is green, Life is the same sweet life As it e'er hath been.

Trust in a G.o.d still lives, And the bell at morn Floats with a thought of G.o.d O'er the rising corn.

G.o.d comes down in the rain, And the crop grows tall-- This is the country faith And best of all!

Norman Gale [1862-

TRULY GREAT

My walls outside must have some flowers, My walls within must have some books; A house that's small; a garden large, And in it leafy nooks:

A little gold that's sure each week; That comes not from my living kind, But from a dead man in his grave, Who cannot change his mind:

A lovely wife, and gentle too; Contented that no eyes but mine Can see her many charms, nor voice To call her beauty fine:

Where she would in that stone cage live, A self made prisoner, with me; While many a wild bird sang around, On gate, on bush, on tree.

And she sometimes to answer them, In her far sweeter voice than all; Till birds, that loved to look on leaves, Will doat on a stone wall.

With this small house, this garden large, This little gold, this lovely mate, With health in body, peace at heart-- Show me a man more great.

William H. Davies [1870-

EARLY MORNING AT BARGIS

Clear air and gra.s.sy lea, Stream-song and cattle-bell-- Dear man, what fools are we In prison-walls to dwell!

To live our days apart From green things and wide skies, And let the wistful heart Be cut and crushed with lies!

Bright peaks!--And suddenly Light floods the placid dell, The gra.s.s-tops brush my knee: A good crop it will be, So all is well!

O man, what fools are we In prison-walls to dwell!

Hermann Hagedorn [1882-

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