Volume Ii Part 14 (2/2)
From those abrupt and perilous rocks The man had fallen, that place of fear!
At length upon the shepherd's mind It breaks, and all is clear: He instantly recalled the name, And who he was, and whence he came; Remembered, too, the very day On which the traveler pa.s.sed this way.
But hear a wonder, for whose sake This lamentable tale I tell!
A lasting monument of words This wonder merits well.
The dog, which still was hovering nigh, Repeating the same timid cry, This dog, had been through three months' s.p.a.ce A dweller in that savage place.
Yes, proof was plain that, since the day When this ill-fated traveler died, The dog had watched about the spot, Or by his master's side: How nourished here through such long time He knows, who gave that love sublime; And gave that strength of feeling, great Above all human estimate!
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
ON THE GRa.s.sHOPPER AND CRICKET.
The poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead; That is the gra.s.shopper's--he takes the lead In summer luxury,--he has never done With his delights, for when tired out with fun, He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never: On a lone winter evening, when the frost Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills The cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever, And seems to one in drowsiness half lost, The gra.s.shopper's among some gra.s.sy hills.
JOHN KEATS.
ON THE GRa.s.sHOPPER AND CRICKET.
Green little vaulter in the sunny gra.s.s, Catching your heart up at the feel of June, Sole voice that's heard amidst the lazy noon, When ev'n the bees lag at the summoning bra.s.s; And you, warm little housekeeper, who cla.s.s With those who think the candles come too soon, Loving the fire and with your tricksome tune Nick the glad silent moments as they pa.s.s; Oh sweet and tiny cousins, that belong, One to the fields, the other to the hearth, Both have your suns.h.i.+ne; both, though small are strong At your dear hearts; and both were sent on earth To sing in thoughtful ears this natural song,-- Indoors and out, summer and winter, mirth!
LEIGH HUNT.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
EPITAPH ON A HARE.
Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue, Nor swifter greyhound follow, Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew, Nor ear heard huntsman's hallo!
Old Tiney, surliest of his kind, Who, nursed with tender care, And to domestic bounds confined, Was still a wild Jack hare.
Though duly from my hand he took His pittance every night, He did it with a jealous look, And, when he could, would bite.
His diet was of wheaten bread, And milk, and oats, and straw; Thistles, or lettuces instead, With sand to scour his maw.
On twigs of hawthorn he regaled, On pippin's russet peel, And when his juicy salads failed, Sliced carrot pleased him well.
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