My wakened heart for utterance ⚫ yearned The clamorous wind had broke the spell I needs must teach what I had learned Within my simple woodland cell. AN INVITATION. INSCRIBED ID GEORGE HAMMERSLEY. CamEtho, my friend ;-the cool autumnal eves About the hearth have drawn their magic rings; There, while his song of peace the cricket weaves, The simmering hickory sings. The winds unkennelled round the casements whine, The sheltered hound makes answer in his dream, And when the mill-wheel spiked with ice is dumb Within the neighboring stream: Then come, for nights like these have power to wake The calm delight no others may impart, When round the fire true souls communing make A summer in the heart. And I will weave athwart the mystic gloom, With hand grown weird in strange romance, for thee, Bright webs of fancy from the golden loom Of charméd Poesy. And let no censure in thy looks be shown, That I, with hands adventurous and bold, And in the hayloft, hark, the cock at Should grasp the enchanted shuttle nine, which was thrown Through mightier warps of old. A SONG.. BRING me the juice of the honey fruit, The large, translucent, amber-hued, The muffled owl within the swaying Rare grapes of southern isles, to suit For I would wake that string for thee | A BUTTERFLY IN THE CITY. Which hath too long in silence DEAR transient spirit of the fields, Thou leadest in thy wavering flight And thou hast fed upon the flowers, I bless the fresh and flowery light Have power to weigh thee down; For thou art like the poet's song, Of flowers of Paradise, Though it hath brought celestial hues To light the ways of life, The dust shall weigh its pinions down Amid the noisy strife. And yet, perchance, some kindred soul May see its glory shine, And feel its wings within his heart As bright as I do thine. THE WAY-SIDE SPRING. FAIR dweller by the dusty way, The earliest blossoms of the year, And not alone to thee is given The homage of the pilgrim's kneeBut oft the sweetest birds of heaven Glide down and sing to thee. |