ODE TO THE DAFFODIL.

375

Huge, cloud-like trees grow dense with sprays and

buds,

And cast a shapelier gloom o'er freshening grass, And through the fringe of ragged woods

More shrouded sunbeams pass.
Fresh shoots conceal the pollard's spike
The driving rack outbraving ;
The hedge swells large by ditch and dike;
And all the uncolour'd world is like
A shadow-limn'd engraving.

Herald and harbinger! with thee
Begins the year's great jubilee !
Of her solemnities sublime

(A sacristan whose gusty taper

Flashes through earliest morning vapour),

Thou ring'st dark nocturns and dim prime.
Birds that have yet no heart for song
Gain strength with thee to twitter;

And warm, at last, where hollies throng,

The mirror'd sunbeams glitter.

With silk the osier plumes her tendrils thin:

Sweet blasts, though keen as sweet, the blue lake wrinkle ;

And buds on leafless boughs begin

Against gray skies to twinkle.

To thee belongs

A pathos drown'd in later scents and songs!

Thou com'st when first the spring

On winter's verge encroaches;

When gifts that speed on wounded wing
Meet little save reproaches!

Thou com'st when blossoms blighted,

Retracted sweets, and ditty,

From suppliants oft deceived and spited

More anger draw than pity!

Thee the old shepherd, on the bleak hill-side,

Far distant eyeing leans upon his staff

Till from his cheek the wind-brush'd tear is dried;
In thee he spells his boyhood's epitaph.
To thee belongs the youngling of the flock,
When first it lies, close-huddled from the cold,
Between the sheltering rock

A gorse-bush slowly over-crept with gold.

Thou laugh'st, bold outcast bright as brave, When the wood bellows, and the cave, And leagues inland is heard the wave! Hating the dainty and the fine

As sings the blackbird thou dost shine!

Thou com'st while yet on mountain lawns high up Lurks the last snow-wreath :-by the berried breer While yet the black spring in its craggy cup

No music makes or charms no listening ear.

Thou com'st while from the oak stock or red beach Dead Autumn scoffs young Spring with splenetic speech ;

When in her vidual chastity the Year

With frozen memories of the sacred past

Her doors and heart makes fast,

And loves no flower save those that deck the bier :-
Ere yet the blossom'd sycamore

With golden surf is curdled o'er;
Ere yet the birch against the blue
Her silken tissue weaves anew,

Thou com'st while, meteor-like, 'mid fens, the weed Swims, wan in light; while sleet-showers whitening glare;—

Weeks ere by river-brims, new furr'd, the reed
Leans its green javelin level in the air.

Child of the strong and strenuous East!
Now scatter'd wide o'er dusk hill bases,
Now mass'd in broad, illuminate spaces ;-
Torch-bearer at a wedding feast
Whereof thou may'st not be partaker,
But mime, at most, and merry-maker;

A SONG OF THE BRIGADE.

377

Phosphor of an ungrateful sun

That rises but to bid thy lamp begone:

Farewell! I saw

Writ large on woods and lawns to-day that Law
Which back remands thy race and thee

To hero-haunted shades of dark Persephoné.
To-day the Spring has pledged her marriage vow:
Her voice, late tremulous, strong has grown and
steady;

To-day the Spring is crown'd a queen: but thou
Thy winter hast already!

Take my song's blessing, and depart,
Type of true service-unrequited heart.

A SONG OF THE BRIGADE.

AUBREY DE VERE.

RIVER that through this purple plain
Toilest (once redder) to the main,
Go kiss for me the banks of Seine!

Tell him I loved, and loved for aye,
That his I am though far away,—
More his than on the marriage-day.
Tell him thy flowers for him I twine
When first the slow sad mornings shine
In thy dim glass-for he is mine.

Tell him when evening's tearful light

Bathes those dark towers on Aughrim's height
There where he fought in heart I fight.

A freeman's banner o'er him waves!
So be it! I but kiss the graves

Where freemen sleep whose sons are slaves.

Tell him I nurse his noble race,

Nor weep save o'er one sleeping face

Wherein those looks of his I trace.

For him
my beads I count when falls
Moonbeam or shower at intervals
Upon our burn'd or blacken'd walls:

And bless him! Bless the bold Brigade,—
May God go with them, horse and blade,
For Faith's defence, and Ireland's aid !

THE OPENING OF THE PIANO.

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

In the little southern parlour of the house you may

have seen,

With the gambrel-roof, and the gable looking westward to the green,

At the side toward the sunset, with the window on

its right,

Stood the London-made piano I am dreaming of to-night.

Ah me! how I remember the evening when it came! What a cry of eager voices, what a group of cheeks in flame,

When the wondrous box was opened that had come from over seas,

With its smell of mastic-varnish and its flash of ivory keys!

Then the children all grew fretful in the restlessness

of joy,

For the boy would push his sister, and the sister crowd the boy,

Till the father asked for quiet in his grave paternal

way,

But the mother hushed the tumult with the words, "Now, Mary, play."

For the dear soul knew that music was a very sove

reign balm ;

She had sprinkled it over sorrow and seen its brow

grow calm,

In the days of slender harpsicords with tapping, tinkling quills,

Or carolling to her spinet with its thin metallic

thrills.

So Mary, the household minstrel, who always loved to please,

Sat down to the new "Clementi," and struck the glittering keys.

Hushed were the children's voices, and every eye grew dim,

As, floating from lip and finger, arose the "Vesper Hymn."

-Catharine, child of a neighbour, curly and rosyred

(Wedded since, and a widow-something like ten years dead),

Hearing a gush of music such as none before, Steals from her mother's chamber and peeps at the open door.

Just as the "Jubilate " in threaded whisper dies,

Open it! open it, lady!" the little maiden cries (For she thought 'twas a singing creature caged in a box she heard),

"Open it! open it, lady! and let me see the bird!"

AUTUMN WOODS.

BRYANT.

ERE in the northern gale

The summer tresses of the trees are gone,
The woods of autumn all around our vale
Have put their glory on.