LITTLE thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown,
Of thee from the hill-top looking down;
The heifer that lows in the upland farm,
Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm;
The sexton tolling his bell at noon,
Deems not that great Napoleon
Stops his horse, and lists with delight,
Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height;
...
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Here in the country’s heart
Where the grass is green,
Life is the same sweet life
As it e’er hath been.Trust in a God still lives,
And the bell at morn
Floats with a thought of God
O’er the rising corn.God comes down in the rain,
And the crop grows tall—
This is the country faith,
And the best of all... -
Five years have past; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters! and again I hear
These waters, 1 rolling from their mountain-springs
With a soft inland murmur.—Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
That on a wild, secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion, and connect
The landscape with the quiet of... -
Great Nature is an army gay,
Resistless marching on its way;
I hear the bugles clear and sweet,
I hear the tread of million feet.
Across the plain I see it pour;
It tramples down the waving grass;
Within the echoing mountain-pass
I hear a thousand cannon roar.It swarms within my garden gate;...
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Come to these scenes of peace,
Where, to rivers murmuring,
The sweet birds all the summer sing,
Where cares and toil and sadness cease!
Stranger, does thy heart deplore
Friends whom thou wilt see no more?
Does thy wounded spirit prove
Pangs of hopeless, severed love?
Thee the stream that gushes clear,
Thee the birds that... -
Now the golden Morn aloft
Waves her dew-bespangled wing,
With vermeil cheek and whisper soft
She woos the tardy Spring:
Till April starts, and calls around
The sleeping fragrance from the ground,
And lightly o’er the living scene
Scatters his freshest, tenderest green.New-born flocks, in rustic dance,
Frisking ply... -
The Bubbling brook doth leap when I come by,
Because my feet find measure with its call;
The birds know when the friend they love is nigh,
For I am known to them, both great and small.
The flower that on the lonely hillside grows
Expects me there when spring its bloom has given;
And many a tree and bush my wanderings knows,
And e’en the... -
Wisdom and Spirit of the universe!
Thou Soul, that art the eternity of thought!
And giv’st to forms and images a breath
And everlasting motion! not in vain,
By day or star-light, thus from my first dawn
Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me
The passions that build up our human soul—
Not with the mean and vulgar works of Man,
... -
O Wanderer in the southern weather,
Our isle awaits us; on each lea
The pea-hens dance; in crimson feather
A parrot swaying on a tree
Rages at his own image in the enamelled sea.There dreamy Time lets fall his sickle
And Life the sandals of her fleetness,
And sleek young Joy is no more fickle,
And Love is kindly and... -
Up! up, my friend! and quit your books,
Or surely you ’ll grow double;
Up! up, my friend! and clear your looks!
Why all this toil and trouble?The sun, above the mountain’s head,
A freshening lustre mellow
Through all the long green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.Books! ’t is a dull and endless...