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There thou go'st untired and meek,
And Eve in her young innocence
Delayed her footsteps there;
To see a tree so fair.
With the shade of human ill,
Yet wast thou goodly still. And when an ancient poet
Some lofty theme would sing, He made the Cedar symbol forth
Each great and gracious thing.
Above all other trees!
For kingly palaces.
And on the Phenix-pyre,
Could feed the odorous fire. In the temple of Jerusalem,
That glorious temple old, They only found the cedar-wood
To match with carved gold. Thou great and noble Solomon,
What king was e'er like thee? Thou 'mong the princes of the earth
Wast like a Cedar tree ! But the glory of the Cedar tree
Is as an old renown,
Upon Mount Lebanon.
And dear to painter's eye ;
On earth will never die!
The all-creating One;
That crowned Mount Lebanon.
That angels came to see,-
The goodly Cedar tree.
Beneath its shadow dim; And from its spreading, leafy boughs Went up the wild bird's hymn.
MONKEY, little merry fellow,
THE FOSSIL ELEPHANT.
How you sate and made a din
The earth is old! Six thousand years
Are gone since I had birth; In the forests of the olden time,
And the solitudes of earth.
How the world's first children ran Laughing from the monkey-man, Litile Abel and his brother, Laughing, shouting to their mother!
And could you keep down your mirth, When the floods were on the earth; When from all your drowning kin, Good old Noah took you in?
In the very ark, no doubt,
No, we cannot hear of this;
Have ye no traditions,-none
We were' a race of mighty things;
The world was all our own.
And the giant Mastodon.
No ship with oar or sail;
By the Dragon and the Whale.
Abode, a creature grim;
Coiled up in the waters dim.
A proud, imperial lot!
Or else we knew it not.
No fortress on the hill;
With armies up, to kill.
No silver and no gold;
And its granite mountains old.
We knew its breadth and length;
And the majesty of strength.
Wherefore, ask not of me;
Let that suffice for thee.
Were buried beneath the earth;
In the caves where they had birth!
Whether on land or sea;
As if for eternity!
Beyond each island shore,
To awake to life no more!
Were ye given, or were ye sold
Now that posture is not right, And he is not settled quite There! that 's better than before, And the knave pretends to snore !
Ha! he is not half asleep!
You shall have it, pigmy brother!
There, the little ancient man Cracks as fast as crack he can! Now, good bye, you merry fellow, Nature's primest puuchinello!
And not till the last conflicting crash
When the world consumes in fire, Will their frozen sepulchres be loosed, And their dreadful doom expire!
THE LOCUST. Tue Locust is fierce, and strong, and grim, And an armed man is afraid of him: He comes like a winged shape of dread, With his shielded back and his armed head, And his double wings for hasty flight, And a keen, unwearying appetite. He comes with famine and fear along, An army a million million strong; The Goth and the Vandal, and dwarfish Hun, With their swarming people wild and dun, Brought not the dread that the Locust brings, When is heard the rush of their myriad wings. From the deserts of burning sand they speed, Where the Lions roam and the Serpents breed, Far over the sea, away, away! And they darken the sun at noon of day. Like Eden the land before they find, But they leave it a desolate waste behind. The peasant grows pale when he sees them come, And standeth before them weak and dumb; For they come like a raging fire in power, And eat up a harvest in half an hour; And the trees are bare, and the land is brown, As if trampled and trod by an army down. There is terror in every monarch's eye, When he hears that his terrible foe is nigh; For he knows that the might of an armed host Cannot drive the spoiler from out his coast, And that terror and famine his land await; That from north to south 't will be desolate. Thus the ravening Locust is strong and grim; And what were an armed man to him? Fire turneth him not, nor sea prevents, He is stronger by far than the elements ! The broad green earth is his prostrate prey, And he darkens the sun at the noon of day!
And all about my mother's door
Shine out its glittering bushes,
The mountain-water gushes.
And the bird that nestles in it;
The green and yellow linnet. Well, call the rose the queen of flowers,
And boast of that of Sharon,
And the golden rod of Aaron.
Beloved of man and woman;
That groweth on the common. Oh the Broom, the yellow Broom,
The ancient poet sung it, And dear it is on summer days
To lie at rest among it!
THE BROOM-FLOWER. O THE Broom, the yellow Broom,
The ancient poet sung it,
To lie at rest among it.
The flowers have not their fellow;
The crimson and the yellow.
In luxury's silken setters,
Are used for written letters.
In modern days or olden;
Like to a garland golden.
No, not in the meadow, and not on the shore ;
mate, No Eagle dwells here ; he is lonely and great! Look, look how he sits! with his keen glancing eye, And his proud head thrown back, looking into the
Great bird of the wilderness! lonely and proud,
The Neuile looked up, the Nettle looked down,
THE BIRD OF PARADISE.
THERE was a Nettle both great and strong ;
With the mighty power of my kingly foot ; “I have spread out my arms so strong and wide, “And opened my way on every side; • I have drawn from the earth its virtues fine, "To strengthen for me each poison-spine; “ Both morn and night my leaves I've spread, "And upon the falling dews have fed, “Till I am as great as a forest-tree; “ The great wide world is the place for me!" Said the Nettle-king in his bravery. Just then up came a Woodman stout, In the thick of the wood he was peering about.
O LOVELY Bird of Paradise,
I'll go where thou dost go! Rise higher yet, and higher yet,
For a stormy wind doth blow. Now up above the tempest
We are sailing in the calm, Amid the golden sunshine,
And where the air is balm. See, far below us rolling,
The storm-cloud black and wide ; The fury of its raging
Is as an angry tide!
Thy happy lot I'll share ;
On, through the sunny air! Whate'er the food thou eatest,
Bird, I will eat it too, And ere it reach the stormy earth,
Will drink with thee the dew! My father and my mother,
I'll leave them for thy sake; And where thy nest is builded,
My pleasant home will make! Is it woven of the sunshine,
And the fragrance of the spice; And cradled round with happiness?
Sweet Bird of Paradise ! O take me, take me to it,
Wherever it may be, For far into the sunshine
I'll fly away with thee!
A many years ago;
A truer tale we know.
Within the forest green;
Its very eggs hath seen.
They take no charm from thee ; Thou art a creature of the earth, And not a mystery!
And when cold winter comes, and the water-plants
die, THE WATER-RAT.
And his little brooks yield him no longer supply,
Down into his burrow he cozily creeps, COME into the meadows, this bright summer day;
And quietly through the long winter-time sleeps. The people are merrily making the hay:
Thus in summer his table by Nature is spread, There's a blithe sound of pastoral life everywhere ; And old mother Earth makes in winter his bed. And the gay Lark is carolling up in the air. And I know in the wood where the Columbine grows, And the climbing Clematis and Pink Apple-rose; And I know where the Buglos grows blue as the sky, And the deep crimson Vetch like a wild Vine runs
THE SPARROW'S NEST. high. And I 'll show you a sight you love better than these, Nay, only look what I have found ! A little field-stream overshadowed with trees,
A Sparrow's nest upon the ground;
Blown out of yonder old elm tree.
And what a medley thing it is ! blowing,
I never saw a nest like this,And the rich, plumy crests of the Meadow-sweet seem
So neatly wove with decent care, Like foam which the current has left on the stream;
Of silvery moss and shining hair; There I'll show you the brown Water-Rat at his
But put together, odds and ends, play –
Picked up from enemies and friends :
Just like a little rubbish-bag!
And here is muslin, pink and green,
And bits of calico between; See how gravely he sits; how demure and how still,
O never thinks the lady fair, Like an anchorite old at his mossy door-sill!
As she goes by with mincing air,
How the pert Sparrow over-head,
Has robbed her gown to make its bed!
Well, here has hoarding been and hiving,
And not a little good contriving, For this little field-stream bath all good that he needs,
Before a home of peace and ease In the budding tree-roots and the clustering reeds,
Was fashioned out of things like these! And the snowy-flowered arrow-head thick growing
Think, had these odds and ends been brought here:
To some wise man renowned for thought, Ah, pity it is man has taught him to fear!
Some man, of men a very gem,
Pray what could he have done with them?
Just bits and scraps, so very small,
" And out of these, you must contrive And he launches away like a brave mariner;
A dwelling large enough for five ; See there, up the stream how he merrily rows,
Neat, warm, and snug ; with comfort stored ; And the tall fragrant Calamus bows as he goes !
Where five small things may lodge and board."
Have been astonished and aghast ;
Ne'er heard of, thought of, much less seen.