Chapter 2
The Tree bore his fruit in the midsummer glow; 5 Said the girl: "May I gather thy berries now?" "Yes, all thou canst see: Take them; all are for thee," Said the Tree, while he bent down his laden boughs low.
FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN
AMERICA, 1860-
September
Here's a lyric for September, 10 Best of all months to remember; Month when summer breezes tell What has happened, wood and dell, Of the joy the year has brought, And the changes she has wrought. She has turned the verdure red; 5 In the blue sky overhead, She the harvest moon has hung, Like a silver boat among Shoals of stars--bright jewels set In the earth's blue coronet; 10 She has brought the orchard's fruit To repay the robin's flute Which has gladdened half the year With a music liquid, clear; And she makes the meadow grass 15 Catch the sunbeams as they pass, Till the autumn's floor is rolled With a fragrant cloth of gold.
CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
ENGLAND, 1830-1894
The Swallow
Fly away, fly away, over the sea, Sun-loving swallow, for summer is done. Come again, come again, come back to me, Bringing the summer, and bringing the sun.
When you come hurrying home o'er the sea, 5 Then we are certain that winter is past; Cloudy and cold though your pathway may be, Summer and sunshine will follow you fast.
LYDIA MARIA CHILD
AMERICA, 1802-1880
Thanksgiving Day
Over the river and through the wood, To grandfather's house we go; 10 The horse knows the way To carry the sleigh Through the white and drifted snow.
Over the river and through the wood-- Oh, how the wind does blow! 5 It stings the toes And bites the nose, As over the ground we go.
Over the river and through the wood, To have a first-rate play; 10 Hear the bells ring, "Ting-a-ling-ding!" Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!
Over the river and through the wood, Trot fast, my dapple-gray! 15 Spring over the ground, Like a hunting hound! For this is Thanksgiving Day.
Over the river and through the wood, And straight through the barn-yard gate. 20 We seem to go Extremely slow-- It is so hard to wait!
Over the river and through the wood-- Now grandmother's cap I spy! 5 Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done? Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
AMERICA, 1807-1882
Hiawatha's Childhood
By the shores of Gitche Gumee, By the shining Big-Sea-Water, 10 Stood the wigwam of Nokomis, Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis. Dark behind it rose the forest, Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees, Rose the firs with cones upon them; 15 Bright before it beat the water, Beat the clear and sunny water, Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water. There the wrinkled old Nokomis Nursed the little Hiawatha, Rocked him in his linden cradle, Bedded soft in moss and rushes, 5 Safely bound with reindeer sinews; Stilled his fretful wail by saying, "Hush! the Naked Bear will hear thee!" Lulled him into slumber, singing, "Ewa-yea! my little owlet! 10 Who is this, that lights the wigwam? With his great eyes lights the wigwam? Ewa-yea! my little owlet!" Many things Nokomis taught him Of the stars that shine in heaven; 15 Showed him Ishkoodah, the comet, Ishkoodah, with fiery tresses; Showed the Death-Dance of the spirits, Warriors with their plumes and war-clubs, Flaring far away to northward 20 In the frosty nights of Winter; Showed the broad white road in heaven, Pathway of the ghosts, the shadows, Running straight across the heavens, Crowded with the ghosts, the shadows. At the door on summer evenings, Sat the little Hiawatha; Heard the whispering of the pine-trees, 5 Heard the lapping of the water, Sounds of music, words of wonder; "Minne-wawa!" said the pine-trees, "Mudway-aushka!" said the water. Saw the fire-fly, Wah-wah-taysee, 10 Flitting through the dusk of evening, With the twinkle of its candle Lighting up the brakes and bushes. And he sang the song of children, Sang the song Nokomis taught him: 15 "Wah-wah-taysee, little fire-fly, Little, flitting, white-fire insect, Little, dancing, white-fire creature, Light me with your little candle, Ere upon my bed I lay me, 20 Ere in sleep I close my eyelids!" Saw the moon rise from the water, Rippling, rounding from the water, Saw the flecks and shadows on it, Whispered, "What is that, Nokomis?" And the good Nokomis answered: "Once a warrior, very angry, Seized his grandmother, and threw her 5 Up into the sky at midnight; Right against the moon he threw her; 'Tis her body that you see there." Saw the rainbow in the heaven, In the eastern sky the rainbow, 10 Whispered, "What is that, Nokomis?" And the good Nokomis answered: "'Tis the heaven of flowers you see there: All the wild-flowers of the forest, All the lilies of the prairie, 15 When on earth they fade and perish, Blossom in that heaven above us." When he heard the owls at midnight, Hooting, laughing in the forest, "What is that?" he cried in terror; 20 "What is that," he said, "Nokomis?" And the good Nokomis answered: "That is but the owl and owlet, Talking in their native language, Talking, scolding at each other." Then the little Hiawatha Learned of every bird its language, Learned their names and all their secrets, 5 How they built their nests in summer, Where they hid themselves in winter, Talked with them whene'er he met them, Called them "Hiawatha's Chickens." Of all beasts he learned the language, 10 Learned their names and all their secrets, How the beavers built their lodges, Where the squirrels hid their acorns, How the reindeer ran so swiftly, Why the rabbit was so timid, 15 Talked with them whene'er he met them, Called them "Hiawatha's Brothers."
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
AMERICA, 1807-1882
Hiawatha's Sailing
"Give me of your bark, O Birch Tree! Of your yellow bark, O Birch Tree! Growing by the rushing river, Tall and stately in the valley! I a light canoe will build me, 5 Build a swift Cheemaun for sailing, That shall float upon the river, Like a yellow leaf in autumn, Like a yellow water lily! "Lay aside your cloak, O Birch Tree! 10 Lay aside your white skin wrapper, For the summer time is coming, And the sun is warm in heaven, And you need no white skin wrapper!" Thus aloud cried Hiawatha 15 In the solitary forest, By the rushing Taquamenaw, When the birds were singing gaily, In the Moon of Leaves were singing, And the Sun, from sleep awaking, Started up and said, "Behold me! Geezis, the great Sun, behold me!" And the tree with all its branches Rustled in the breeze of morning, 5 Saying, with a sigh of patience, "Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!" With his knife the tree he girdled; Just beneath its lowest branches, Just above the roots, he cut it, 10 Till the sap came oozing outward; Down the trunk, from top to bottom, Sheer he cleft the bark asunder, With a wooden wedge he raised it, Stripped it from the trunk unbroken. 15 "Give me of your boughs, O Cedar! Of your strong and pliant branches, My canoe to make more steady, Make more strong and firm beneath me!" Through the summit of the Cedar 20 Went a sound, a cry of horror, Went a murmur of resistance; But it whispered, bending downward, "Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!" Down he hewed the boughs of cedar, Shaped them straightway to a framework, Like two bows he formed and shaped them, Like two bended bows together. 5 "Give me of your roots, O Tamarack! Of your fibrous roots, O Larch Tree! My canoe to bind together, So to bind the ends together That the water may not enter, 10 That the river may not wet me!" And the Larch with all its fibers, Shivered in the air of morning, Touched his forehead with its tassels, Said, with one long sigh of sorrow, 15 "Take them all, O Hiawatha!" From the earth he tore the fibers, Tore the tough roots of the Larch Tree, Closely sewed the bark together, Bound it closely to the framework. 20 "Give me of your balm, O Fir Tree! Of your balsam and your resin, So to close the seams together That the water may not enter, That the river may not wet me!" And the Fir Tree, tall and somber, Sobbed through all its robes of darkness, Rattled like a shore with pebbles, 5 Answered wailing, answered weeping, "Take my balm, O Hiawatha!" And he took the tears of balsam, Took the resin of the Fir Tree, Seamed therewith each seam and fissure, 10 Made each crevice safe from water. "Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog! All your quills, O Kagh, the Hedgehog! I will make a necklace of them, Make a girdle for my beauty, 15 And two stars to deck her bosom!" From a hollow tree the Hedgehog With his sleepy eyes looked at him, Shot his shining quills, like arrows, Saying, with a drowsy murmur, 20 Through the tangle of his whiskers, "Take my quills, O Hiawatha!" From the ground the quills he gathered, All the little shining arrows, Stained them red and blue and yellow, With the juice of roots and berries; Into his canoe he wrought them, Round its waist a shining girdle, 5 Round its bows a gleaming necklace, On its breast two stars resplendent. Thus the Birch Canoe was builded, In the valley, by the river, In the bosom of the forest; 10 And the forest's life was in it, All its mystery and its magic, All the lightness of the birch tree, All the toughness of the cedar, All the larch's supple sinews; 15 And it floated on the river Like a yellow leaf in autumn, Like a yellow water lily. Paddles none had Hiawatha, Paddles none he had or needed, 20 For his thoughts as paddles served him, And his wishes served to guide him; Swift or slow at will he glided, Veered to right or left at pleasure.
SABINE BARING-GOULD
ENGLAND, 1834-
Child's Evening Prayer
Now the day is over, 5 Night is drawing nigh, Shadows of the evening Steal across the sky.
Now the darkness gathers, Stars begin to peep, Birds and beasts and flowers Soon will be asleep.
Through the long night-watches May Thine angels spread 10 Their white wings above me, Watching round my bed.
When the morning wakens, Then may I arise Pure and fresh and sinless 15 In Thy holy eyes.
THIRD YEAR--SECOND HALF
Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean
O, Columbia, the gem of the ocean, The home of the brave and the free, The shrine of each patriot's devotion, A world offers homage to thee; Thy mandates make heroes assemble, 5 When Liberty's form stands in view; Thy banners make tyranny tremble, When borne by the red, white, and blue, When borne by the red, white, and blue, When borne by the red, white, and blue, 10 Thy banners make tyranny tremble, When borne by the red, white, and blue.
When war wing'd its wide desolation, And threaten'd the land to deform, The ark then of freedom's foundation, 15 Columbia rode safe thro' the storm: With the garlands of vict'ry around her, When so proudly she bore her brave crew, With her flag proudly floating before her, The boast of the red, white, and blue, The boast of the red, white, and blue, 5 The boast of the red, white, and blue, With her flag proudly floating before her The boast of the red, white, and blue.
The star-spangled banner bring hither, O'er Columbia's true sons let it wave; 10 May the wreaths they have won never wither, Nor its stars cease to shine on the brave. May the service united ne'er sever, But hold to their colors so true; The army and navy forever, 15 Three cheers for the red, white, and blue, Three cheers for the red, white, and blue, Three cheers for the red, white, and blue, The army and navy forever, Three cheers for the red, white, and blue. 20
ROBERT HERRICK
ENGLAND, 1591-1674
Corinna going a-Maying
Get up, get up, for shame the blooming morn Upon her wings presents the gods unshorn. See how Aurora throws her fair, Fresh-quilted colors through the air; Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see 5 The dew-bespangled herb and tree.
Each flower has wept, and bowed toward the East Above an hour since, yet you are not drest, Nay not so much as out of bed, When all the birds have matins said, 10 And sung their thankful hymns; 'tis sin, Nay, profanation to keep in, When as a thousand virgins on this day Spring sooner than the lark to fetch in May.
Come, my Corinna, come, and coming, mark How each field turns a street--each street a park, Made green and trimmed with trees! see how Devotion gives each house a bough, Or branch! each porch, each door, ere this 5 An ark, a tabernacle is, Made up of whitethorn neatly interwove, As if he were those cooler shades of love. Can such delights be in the street And open fields, and we not see't? 10 Come we'll abroad, and let's obey The proclamation made for May. And sin no more, as we have done, by staying, But, my Corinna! come, let's go a-Maying.
JOHN KEATS
ENGLAND, 1795-1821
Sweet Peas
Here are sweet peas, on tiptoe for a flight: With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things, To bind them all about with tiny rings. Linger awhile upon some bending planks 5 That lean against a streamlet's rushy banks, And watch intently Nature's gentle doings, They will be found softer than ringdove's cooings. How silent comes the water round that bend! Not the minutest whisper does it send 10 To the o'erhanging sallows: blades of grass Slowly across the chequer'd shadows pass.
EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER
AMERICA, 1862-
The Bluebird
I know the song that the bluebird is singing, Out in the apple-tree where he is swinging: Brave little fellow! the skies may be dreary: Nothing cares he while his heart is so cheery.
Hark! how the music leaps out from his throat-- 5 Hark! was there ever so merry a note? Listen awhile, and you'll hear what he's saying, Up in the apple-tree, swinging and swaying.
"Dear little blossoms, down under the snow, You must be weary of winter, I know; 10 Hark while I sing you a message of cheer-- _Summer_ is coming! and _spring-time_ is here!
"Little white snowdrop! I pray you, arise; Bright yellow crocus! come, open your eyes; Sweet little violets, hid from the cold, 5 Put on your mantles of purple and gold: Daffodils! daffodils! say, do you hear?-- _Summer_ is coming! and _spring-time_ is here!"
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
SCOTLAND, 1850-1894
Where go the Boats?
Dark brown is the river, Golden is the sand, 10 It flows along forever, With trees on either hand.
Green leaves a-floating, Castles of the foam, Boats of mine a-boating-- Where will all come home?
On goes the river 5 And out past the mill, Away down the valley, Away down the hill.
Away down the river, A hundred miles or more, 10 Other little children Shall bring my boats ashore.
CHARLES LAMB, MARY LAMB
ENGLAND, 1775-1834, ENGLAND, 1764-1847
The Magpie's Nest
When the arts in their infancy were, In a fable of old 'tis expressed A wise magpie constructed that rare 15 Little house for young birds, called a nest.
This was talked of the whole country round; You might hear it on every bough sung; "Now no longer upon the rough ground Will fond mothers brood over their young:
"For the magpie with exquisite skill 5 Has invented a moss-covered cell Within which a whole family will In the utmost security dwell."
To her mate did each female bird say: "Let us fly to the magpie, my dear; 10 If she will but teach us the way, A nest we will build us up here.
"It's a thing that's close arched overhead, With a hole made to creep out and in; We, my bird, might make just such a bed 15 If we only knew how to begin."
To the magpie soon all the birds went, And in modest terms made their request, That she would be pleased to consent To teach them to build up a nest.
She replied: "I will show you the way, So observe everything that I do: First, two sticks 'cross each other I lay--" 5 "To be sure," said the crow, "why I knew
"It must be begun with two sticks, And I thought that they crossed should be." Said the pie, "Then some straw and moss mix In the way you now see done by me." 10
"Oh, yes, certainly," said the jackdaw, "That must follow, of course, I have thought; Though I never before building saw, I guessed that without being taught." "More moss, more straw, and feathers, I place 15 In this manner," continued the pie. "Yes, no doubt, madam, that is the case; Though no builder myself, so thought I."
Whatever she taught them beside, In his turn every bird of them said, Though the nest-making art he ne'er tried, 5 He had just such a thought in his head.
Still the pie went on showing her art, Till the nest she had built up halfway; She no more of her skill would impart, But in her anger went fluttering away. 10
And this speech in their hearing she made, As she perched o'er their heads on a tree: "If ye all were well skilled in my trade, Pray, why came ye to learn it of me?"
MARGARET VANDEGRIFT
AMERICA, 1845-
The Sandman
The rosy clouds float overhead, The sun is going down; And now the sandman's gentle tread Comes stealing through the town. "White sand, white sand," he softly cries, 5 And as he shakes his hand, Straightway there lies on babies' eyes His gift of shining sand. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town, 10
From sunny beaches far away-- Yes, in another land-- He gathers up at break of day His store of shining sand. No tempests beat that shore remote, 15 No ships may sail that way; His little boat alone may float Within that lovely bay. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town.