Over our heads the branches made
A canopy of woven shade.
The birds about this beechen tent
Like deft attendants came and went.
A shy wood-robin, fluting low,
Furnished the music for the show.
The cricket and the grasshopper
A portion...
Framed in the cavernous fire-place sits a boy,
Watching the embers from his grandsire’s knee:
One sees red castles rise, and laughs with joy;
The other marks them crumble, silently.
Lean close and set thine ear against the bark;
Then tell me what faint, murmurous sounds are heard:
Hath not the oak stored up the song of bird,
Whisper of wind and rain-lisp? Ay, and hark!
The shadowy elves that fret the summer dark,
With clash of horny...
To stand within a gently gliding boat,
Urged by a noiseless paddle at the stern,
Whipping the crystal mirror of the fern
In fairy bays where water-lilies float;
To hear your reel’s whirr echoed by the throat
Of a wild mocking-bird, or round some turn...
Wind of the North,
Wind of the Norland snows,
Wind of the winnowed skies, and sharp, clear stars,—
Blow cold and keen across the naked hills,
And crisp the lowland pools with crystal films,
And blur the casement squares with glittering ice,
But go...
