When I heard the Earth-song
I was no longer brave;
My avarice cooled
Like lust in the chill of the grave.
ON BEING ASKED, WHENCE IS THE FLOWER?
In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods, Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook, To please the desert and the sluggish brook. The purple petals, fallen in the pool,
Made the black water with their beauty gay;
Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool, And court the flower that cheapens his array. Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why
This charm is wasted on the earth and sky,
Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing, Then Beauty is its own excuse for being: '
Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose! I never thought to ask, I never knew: But, in my simple ignorance, suppose
The self-same Power that brought me there brought you.
BURLY, dozing humble-bee,
Where thou art is clime for me. Let them sail for Porto Rique, Far-off heats through seas to seek; I will follow thee alone, Thou animated torrid-zone! Zigzag steerer, desert cheerer, Let me chase thy waving lines; Keep me nearer, me thy hearer, Singing over shrubs and vines.
Insect lover of the sun, Joy of thy dominion !
Sailor of the atmosphere;
Swimmer through the waves of air;
When the south wind, in May days,
With a net of shining haze
Silvers the horizon wall
And with softness touching all,
Tints the human countenance
With a color of romance, And infusing subtle heats, Turns the sod to violets, Thou, in sunny solitudes, Rover of the underwoods, The green silence dost displace With thy mellow, breezy bass.
Hot midsummer's petted crone, Sweet to me thy drowsy tone Tells of countless sunny hours, Long days, and solid banks of flowers; Of gulfs of sweetness without bound In Indian wildernesses found; Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure, Firmest cheer, and bird-like pleasure.
Aught unsavory or unclean Hath my insect never seen; But violets and bilberry bells, Maple-sap and daffodels,
Grass with green flag half-mast high, Succory to match the sky, Columbine with horn of honey, Scented fern, and agrimony, Clover, catchfly, adder's-tongue And brier-roses, dwelt among; All beside was unknown waste, All was picture as he passed.
Wiser far than human seer, Yellow-breeched philosopher! Seeing only what is fair, Sipping only what is sweet,
Thou dost mock at fate and care,
Leave the chaff, and take the wheat.' When the fierce northwestern blast Cools sea and land so far and fast,
Thou already slumberest deep; Woe and want thou canst outsleep; Want and woe, which torture us, Thy sleep makes ridiculous.
'MAY be true what I had heard, — Earth's a howling wilderness, Truculent with fraud and force,' Said I, strolling through the pastures, And along the river-side.
Caught among the blackberry vines, Feeding on the Ethiops sweet,
Pleasant fancies overtook me.
I said, What influence me preferred, Elect, to dreams thus beautiful?'
The vines replied, And didst thou deem No wisdom from our berries went?' '
ANNOUNCED by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
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