TWO RIVERS THY summer voice, Musketaquit, Through thee, as thou through Concord Plain. Thou in thy narrow banks art pent: Through flood and sea and firmament; I see the inundation sweet, I hear the spending of the stream Through years, through men, through Nature fleet, Through love and thought, through power and dream.' Musketaquit, a goblin strong, Of shard and flint makes jewels gay; So forth and brighter fares my stream,- WALDEINSAMKEIT I Do not count the hours I spend The forest is my loyal friend, Like God it useth me. In plains that room for shadows make Bound in by streams which give and take Or on the mountain-crest sublime, Or down the oaken glade, O what have I to do with time? For this the day was made.' Cities of mortals woe-begone But in the serious landscape lone Stern benefit abides. Sheen will tarnish, honey cloy, And merry is only a mask of sad, There the great Planter plants Still on the seeds of all he made The rose of beauty burns; Through times that wear and forms that fade, Immortal youth returns. The black ducks mounting from the lake, The pigeon in the pines, The bittern's boom, a desert make Which no false art refines. Down in yon watery nook, Where bearded mists divide, The gray old gods whom Chaos knew, The sires of Nature, hide. Aloft, in secret veins of air, Blows the sweet breath of song, O, few to scale those uplands dare, Though they to all belong! See thou bring not to field or stone The fancies found in books; Leave authors' eyes, and fetch your own, To brave the landscape's looks. Oblivion here thy wisdom is, TERMINUS It is time to be old, To take in sail : The god of bounds, Who sets to seas a shore, Came to me in his fatal rounds, Thy broad ambitious branches, and thy root. Fancy departs: no more invent; Contract thy firmament To compass of a tent. There's not enough for this and that, Make thy option which of two; Economize the failing river, A little while Still plan and smile, And, fault of novel germs, Mature the unfallen fruit. Curse, if thou wilt, thy sires, Who, when they gave thee breath, The needful sinew stark as once, As the bird trims her to the gale, I trim myself to the storm of time, I man the rudder, reef the sail, Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime: 'Lowly faithful, banish fear, Right onward drive unharmed; The port, well worth the cruise, is near, And every wave is charmed.'* |