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and eye

Triumphantly, triumphantly,

Sing to the woods, I go!
For me, perchance, in other lands

The glorious rose may blow.
No more, no more, sing mournfully!

Swell high, then break, my heart ! The rose, the royal rose, is gone, And I, too, will depart.

HEMANS.

Or, while the wings aspire, are heart Both with thy nest upon the dewy

ground ? Thy nest, which thou canst drop into

at will, Those quivering wings composed,

that music still!

THE BIRD.

“ BIRDIE, Birdie, will you, pet ? Summer is far and far away yet. You'll have silken quilts and a vel

vet bed, And a pillow of satin for your head."

To the last point of vision, and be

yond, Mount, daring warbler! That love

prompted strain, 'Twixt thee and thine a never-failing

bond, Thrills not the less the bosom of the

plain; Yet might'st thou seem, proud privi

lege! to sing All independent of the leafy spring.

Leave to the nightingale her shady

wood; A privacy of glorious light is thine, Whence thou dost pour upon the

world a flood Of harmony, with instinct more di

vine; Type of the wise, who soar,

but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.

WORDSWORTH.

“I'd rather sleep in the ivy wall: No rain comes through, though I

hear it fall; The sun peeps gay at dawn of day, And I sing, and wing away, away!” “O Birdie, Birdie, will you, pet? Diamond stones and amber and jet We'll string on a necklace fair and fine, To please this pretty bird of mine." “Oh! thanks for diamonds, and

thanks for jet; But here is something daintier yet, A feather necklace, round and round, That I would not sell for a thousand

pound!” “O Birdie, Birdie, won't you, pet ? We'll buy you a dish of silver fret, A golden cup and an ivory seat, And carpets soft beneath your feet." “Can running water be drunk from

gold ? Can a silver dish the forest hold? A rocking twig is the finest chair, And the softest paths lie through the

air: Good-by, good-by, to my lady fair."

ALLINGHAM.

TO A SKY-LARK.

LIKE a poet hidden

In the light of thought,
Singing hymns unbidden,

Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not.

SHELLEY.

BREEDING LARK.

I must go furnish up
A nest I have begun,
And will return and bring ye meat,
As soon as it is done.

TO THE SKY-LARK.

ETHEREAL minstrel, pilgrim of the

sky! Dost thou despise the earth where

cares abound?

Then up she clambe the clouds
With such a lusty lay,
That it rejoiced her younglings' heart,
As in their nest they lay.

ARTHUR BOAR

FLIGHT OF THE WILD GEESE.

“Let's brush loose for any creek,
There lurk fish and fly,
Condiments to fat the weak,
Inundate the pie.
Flutter not about a place,
Ye concomitants of space!

Mute the listening nations stand
On that dark receding land;
How faint their villages and towns,
Scattered on the misty downs!
A meeting-house
Appears no bigger than a mouse.
How long?
Never is a question asked,
While a throat can lift the song,
Or a flapping wing be tasked.

RAMBLING along the marshes,
On the bank of the Assabet,
Sounding myself as to how it went,
Praying that I might not forget,
And all uncertain
Whether I was in the right,
Toiling to lift Time's curtain,
And if I burnt the strongest light;
Suddenly,
High in the air,
I heard the travelled geese
Their overture prepare.
Stirred above the patent ball,
The wild geese flew,
Nor near so wild as that doth me be-

fall,
Or, swollen Wisdom, you.
In the front there fetched a leader,
Him behind the line spread out,
And waved about,
As it was near night,
When these air-pilots stop their

flight.
Cruising off the shoal dominion
Where we sit,
Depending not on their opinion,
Nor hiving sops of wit;
Geographical in tact,
Naming not a pond or river,
Pulled with twilight down in fact,
In the reeds to quack and quiver,
There they go,
Spectators at the play below,
Southward in a row.

All the grandmothers about
Hear the orators of Heaven,
Then put on their woollens stout,
And cower o'er the hearth at even;
And the children stare at the sky,
And laugh to see the long black line

so high!

Then once more I heard them say,
“ * Tis a smooth, delightful road,
Difficult to lose the way,
And a trifle for a load.

“'Twas our forte in pass for this, Proper sack of sense to borrow, Wii and and bills that clat

ter, And the horizon of To-morrow."

CHANNING.

TO A WATERFOWL.

Cannot land and map the stars
The indifferent geese,
Nor taste the sweetmeats in odd jars,
Nor speculate and freeze;
Ra acid weasands need be well,
Feathers glossy, quills in order,
Starts this train, yet rings no bell;
Steam is raised without recorder

WHITHER, 'midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last

steps of day? Far through their rosy depths dost

thou pursue
Thy solitary way?

“Up, my feathered fowl, all,”. Saith the goose commander, “Brighten your bills, and flirt your

pinions, My toes are nipped, - let us render Ourselves in soft Guatemala, Or suck puddles in Campeachy, Spitzbergen-cake cuts very frosty, And the tipple is not leechy.

Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do

thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson

sky,
Thy figure floats along.

Seek'st thou the plashy brink Of weedy lakc, or marge of river wide,

Or where the rocking billows rise

and sink
On the chafed ocean-side ?

There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless

coast, The desert and illimitable air,

Lone wandering, but not lost.

All day thy wings have fanned At that far height the cold, thin

atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome

land, Though the dark night is near.

That rolled the wild, profound, eter

nal bass In nature's anthem, and made mu

sic such As pleased the ear of God! original, Unmarred, unfaded Work of Deity! And unburlesqued by mortal's puny

skill; From age to age enduring, and un

changed, Majestical, inimitable, vast, Loud uttering satire, day and night,

on each Succeeding race, and little pompous

work Of man; unfallen, religious, holy sea! Thou bowedst thy glorious head to

none, fearedst none, Heardst none, to none didst honor,

but to God Thy Maker, only worthy to receive Thy great obeisance.

POLLOK.

And soon that toil shall end, Soon shalt thou find a summer home,

and rest, And scream

among thy fellows: reeds shall bend, Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest.

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Where the seaweed makes its bend

ing home, And the sea-birds swim on the crests

so clear, Wave after wave, they are curling

o'er, While the white sand dazzles along the shore.

CHANNING.

Not thou, vain lord of wantonness

and ease! Whom slumber soothes not, pleasure

cannot please, Oh! who can tell, save he whose

heart hath tried, And danced in triumph o'er the wa

ters wide, The exulting sense, the pulse's mad

dening play, That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way?

BYRON: Corsair.

SEA SONG.

A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA.

THE CORAL GROVE.

fish rove;

A wer sheet and a flowing sea,

A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail,

And bends the gallant mast. And bends the gallant mast, my boys,

While, like the eagle free, Away the good ship flies, and leaves

Old England on the lee. There's tempest in yon hornèd moon,

And lightning in yon cloud; And hark, the music, mariners!

The wind is wakening loud. The wind is wakening loud, my boys,

The lightning flashes free; The hollow oak our palace is, Our heritage the sea.

ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.

SEA.

DEEP in the wave is a coral grove, Where the purple mullet and goldWhere the sea-flower spreads its

leaves of blue, That never are wet with falling dew, But in bright and changeful beauty

shine Far down in the green and glassy

brine. The floor is of sand, like the moun

tain drift, And the pearl-shells spangle the

flinty snow: From coral rocks the sea-plants lift Their boughs, where the tides and

billows flow; The water is calm and still below, For the winds and the waves are

absent there, And the sands are bright as the stars

that glow In the motionless fields of upper air: There with its waving blade of

green, The sea-flag streams through the

silent water, And the crimson leaf of the dulse is

seen To blush like a banner bathed in

slaughter: There with a light and easy motion The fan coral sweeps through the

clear deep sea; And the yellow and scarlet tufts of

ocean Are bending like corn on the upland

lea; And life, in rare and beautiful forms, Is sporting amid those bowers of

stone,

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