Chapter 14

The poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead; That is the grasshopper's--he takes the lead 5 In summer luxury--he has never done With his delights, for when tired out with fun, He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed. The poetry of earth is ceasing never: On a lone winter evening, when the frost 10 Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills The cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever, And seems to one in drowsiness half lost, The grasshopper's among the grassy hills.

1. What keeps the poetry of earth alive in the heat of summer? In the cold of winter? What does Keats mean by his first line?

TO A WATERFOWL

BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT

Bryant saw a solitary waterfowl winging its way high up in the air in the twilight of evening. The sight sets him thinking of the inborn sense of the bird. Where was it going? How did it know it was on the right way? Who gave it the power to direct its flight? Then he imagines that the bird is bound for its nesting place among its fellows. And he finally gets for himself--and for us all--a fine lesson from the flight of the waterfowl. Try to follow the poet's thinking, step by step, as you read the poem.

Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far through their rosy depths dost thou pursue Thy solitary way?

Vainly the fowler's eye 5 Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.

Seek'st thou the plashy brink Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, 10 Or where the rocking billows rise and sink On the chafed ocean side?

There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast-- The desert and illimitable air-- 15 Lone wandering, but not lost.

All day thy wings have fanned At that far height the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.

And soon that toil shall end; 5 Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend, Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest.

Thou'rt gone; the abyss of heaven Hath swallowed up thy form; yet on my heart 10 Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart.

He who from zone to zone Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, 15 Will lead my steps aright.

1. What time of day is it when Bryant observes the bird? Is it clear or cloudy weather? Prove both answers.

2. In the third stanza, how many places does he mention as the possible ends of the bird's flight? Name each.

3. Has the waterfowl traveled far? Read the line that answers this.

4. Explain line 5, page 190; the third stanza on page 191.

5. What lesson does Bryant get from the bird? Memorize the last stanza.

6. William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) was born at Cummington, Massachusetts, where his father practiced medicine. He attended the district school and later studied law, but gave up his practice for journalism. He was very successful and was for many years editor of _The New York Evening Post_. This poem was written when he was unsettled and discouraged about his law practice.

A NIGHT IN THE TROPICS

BY RICHARD HENRY DANA, JR.

Those who have spent their lives on the ocean say that we dwellers on land know nothing of life under the open sky. The following extract is a bit of night scenery aboard ship in the days of wooden vessels with canvas wings.

One night while we were in the tropics, I went out to the end of the flying jib boom upon some duty; and having finished it, turned around and lay on the boom for a long time, admiring the beauty of the sight below me. Being so far out from the deck I could look at the ship 5 as at a separate vessel; and there rose up from the water, supported only by the small black hull, a pyramid of canvas spreading far out beyond the hull and towering up almost, as it seemed in the indistinct night, into the clouds. The sea was as still as an inland lake; the light trade wind was 10 gently and steadily breathing from astern; the dark-blue sky was studded with the tropical stars; there was no sound but the rippling of the water under the stem; and the sails were spread out wide and high--the two lower studding sails stretching out on either side far beyond the 15 deck; the topmost studding sails like wings to the topsails; the topgallant studding sails spreading fearlessly out above them; still higher the two royal studding sails, looking like two kites flying from the same string; and highest of all the little skysail, the apex of the pyramid, seeming 20 actually to touch the stars and to be out of reach of human hand. So quiet, too, was the sea, and so steady the breeze, that if these sails had been sculptured in marble they could not have been more motionless--not a ripple on the surface of the canvas, not even a quivering of the extreme edges of the sail, so perfectly were they distended by the breeze. I was so lost in the sight that I forgot the presence of the man who came out with me, until he said (for he 5 too, rough old man-of-war's man that he was, had been gazing at the show) half to himself, still looking at the marble sails: "How quietly they do their work!"

--_Two Years Before the Mast._

1. This is a painting in words. From what position did Mr. Dana view the scene? What impressed him most?

A WINTER RIDE

BY AMY LOWELL

Who shall declare the joy of the running! Who shall tell of the pleasures of flight! Springing and spurning the tufts of wild heather, Sweeping, wide winged, through the blue dome of light. Everything mortal has moments immortal, 5 Swift and God-gifted, immeasurably bright.

So with the stretch of the white road before me, Shining snow crystals rainbowed by the sun, Fields that are white, stained with long, cool, blue shadows, Strong with the strength of my horse as we run. 10 Joy in the touch of the wind and the sunlight! Joy! With the vigorous earth I am one.

1. What was the author doing? How did the ride affect her? What does she mean in line 5? In line 12? If you have ever coasted or had a swift sleigh ride tell the thrills you experienced.

THE SNOWSTORM

BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON

The following selection is an artistic description of a winter storm. Read it carefully to get the successive pictures that are presented. Try to determine, as you read, when the snow fell, whether the scenes are in the country or in town; if the author was an actual observer of the storm or if he wrote the poem out of imagination.

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight; the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven, And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end. 5 The sled and traveler stopped, the courier's feet Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit Around the radiant fireplace, inclosed In a tumultuous privacy of storm.

Come see the north wind's masonry! 10 Out of an unseen quarry evermore Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer Curves his white bastions with projected roof Round every windward stake, or tree, or door. Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work 15 So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he For number or proportion. Mockingly, On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths; A swanlike form invests the hidden thorn; Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall, 20 Mauger the farmer's sighs; and at the gate A tapering turret overtops the work; And when his hours are numbered and the world Is all his own, retiring as he were not, Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art 5 To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone, Built in an age, the mad wind's night work-- The frolic architecture of the snow.

1. The first stanza describes the effect of the storm on people. Who are some of those inconvenienced?

2. In the remainder of the poem, the storm is thought of as an architect. What words describe him and his work? Why is he "myriad-handed?" Explain windward; mauger; "Parian wreaths." Why is the storm said to use the last mockingly? What other fanciful or mischievous things does the storm do?

3. Express in your own words the idea in lines 3-8, page 195. Compare the work of human builders with the work of the storm.

4. Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) was an American essayist, poet, and philosopher. He lived at Concord, Massachusetts.

SNOW-BOUND

BY JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

The sun that brief December day Rose cheerless over hills of gray, And darkly circled, gave at noon A sadder light than waning moon. Slow tracing down the thickening sky 5 Its mute and ominous prophecy, A portent seeming less than threat, It sank from sight before it set. A chill no coat, however stout, Of homespun stuff could quite shut out-- 10

A hard, dull bitterness of cold, That checked, midvein, the circling race Of lifeblood in the sharpened face-- The coming of the snowstorm told. The wind blew east; we heard the roar 5 Of ocean on his wintry shore, And felt the strong pulse throbbing there Beat with low rhythm our inland air.

Meanwhile we did our nightly chores: Brought in the wood from out of doors, 10 Littered the stalls, and from the mows Raked down the herd's grass for the cows; Heard the horse whinnying for his corn; And sharply clashing horn on horn, Impatient down the stanchion rows, 15 The cattle shake their walnut bows; While peering from his early perch Upon the scaffold's pole of birch, The cock his crested helmet bent And down his querulous challenge sent. 20

Unwarmed by any sunset light The gray day darkened into night, A night made hoary with the swarm And whirl dance of the blinding storm, As zigzag, wavering to and fro, 25 Crossed and recrossed the wingèd snow; And ere the early bedtime came The white drift piled the window frame, And through the glass the clothesline posts Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts. 30

So all night long the storm roared on: The morning broke without a sun; In tiny spherule traced with lines Of nature's geometric signs, In starry flake and pellicle, 5 All day the hoary meteor fell; And when the second morning shone, We looked upon a world unknown, On nothing we could call our own. Around the glistening wonder bent 10 The blue walls of the firmament, No cloud above, no earth below-- A universe of sky and snow!

The old familiar sights of ours Took marvelous shapes: strange domes and towers 15 Rose up where sty or corncrib stood, Or garden wall, or belt of wood; A smooth white mound the brush pile showed, A fenceless drift what once was road; The bridle post an old man sat, 20 With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat; The well curb had a Chinese roof; And even the long sweep, high aloof, In its slant splendor, seemed to tell Of Pisa's leaning miracle. 25

All day the gusty north wind bore The loosening drift its breath before; Low circling round its southern zone, The sun through dazzling snow mist shone. No church bell lent its Christian tone 30 To the savage air; no social smoke

Curled over woods of snow-hung oak; A solitude made more intense By dreary-voicèd elements-- The shrieking of the mindless wind, The moaning tree boughs swaying blind, 5 And on the glass the unmeaning beat Of ghostly finger tips of sleet.

--_Snow-Bound._

1. Outline, stanza by stanza, the story told. Who tells it? Where is the scene laid? How many days and nights are covered?

2. Compare this with the previous poem for clearness, pleasant sound, pictures shown, new ideas. Which do you like better? The last line of "The Snowstorm" interprets lines 14-25, page 197. How?

3. John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892) was born at Haverhill, Massachusetts. _Snow-bound_, from which this extract is taken, gives a good description of his home and family. A great deal of his writing was done while editor of various magazines and newspapers. He was for a long time connected with the _Atlantic Monthly_. Many of his poems describe country life in New England; others retell old stories of pioneer days. He died at Amesbury, Massachusetts.

TOM PINCH'S RIDE

BY CHARLES DICKENS

It was a charming evening, mild and bright. The four grays skimmed along, as if they liked it quite as well as Tom did; the bugle was in as high spirits as the grays; the coachman chimed in sometimes with his voice; the wheels hummed cheerfully in unison; the brass work on 5 the harness was an orchestra of little bells; and thus as they went clinking, jingling, rattling smoothly on, the whole concern, from the buckles of the leaders' coupling reins to the handle of the boot, was one great instrument of music.

Yo-ho! Past hedges, gates, and trees; past cottages, and barns, and people going home from work. Yo-ho! Past donkey chaises drawn aside into the ditch, and empty carts with rampant horses whipped up at a bound upon the little watercourse and held by struggling carters close to 5 the five-barred gate until the coach had passed the narrow turning in the road. Yo-ho! By churches dropped down by themselves in quiet nooks, with rustic burial grounds about them, where the graves are green and daisies sleep--for it is evening--on the bosoms of the dead. 10

Yo-ho! Past streams in which the cattle cool their feet, and where the rushes grow; past paddock fences, farms, and rickyards; past last year's stacks, cut slice by slice away, and showing in the waning light like ruined gables, old and brown. Yo-ho! Down the pebbly dip, and through 15 the merry water splash, and up at a canter to the level road again. Yo-ho! Yo-ho!

Yo-ho! Among the gathering shades, making of no account the reflection of the trees, but scampering on through light and darkness, all the same, as if the light of 20 London fifty miles away were quite enough to travel by, and some to spare. Now, with a clattering of hoofs and striking out of fiery sparks, across the old stone bridge, and down again into the shadowy road, and through the open gate, and far away, into the world. Yo-ho! 25

See the bright moon! High up before we know it, making the earth reflect the objects on its breast like water--hedges, trees, low cottages, church steeples, blighted stumps, and flourishing young slips, have all grown vain upon a sudden, and mean to contemplate their own fair images till 30 morning. The poplars yonder rustle, that their quivering leaves may see themselves upon the ground. Not so the oak; trembling does not become him; and he watches himself in his stout old burly steadfastness without the motion of a twig.

The moss-grown gate, ill-poised upon its creaking hinges, crippled and decayed, swings to and fro before its glass 5 like some fantastic dowager: while our own ghostly likeness travels on, through ditch and brake, upon the plowed land and the smooth, along the steep hillside and steeper wall, as if it were a phantom hunter.

Yo-ho! Why, now we travel like the moon herself. 10 Hiding this minute in a grove of trees; next minute in a patch of vapor; emerging now upon our broad, clear course; withdrawing now, but always dashing on, our journey is a counterpart of hers. Yo-ho! A match against the moon.

The beauty of the night is hardly felt when day comes 15 leaping up. Two stages, and the country roads are almost changed to a continuous street. Yo-ho! Past market gardens, rows of houses, villas, crescents, terraces, and squares, and in among the rattling pavements. Yo-ho! Down countless turnings, and through countless mazy 20 ways, until an old innyard is gained, and Tom Pinch, getting down quite stunned and giddy, is in London.

"Five minutes before the time, too!" said the driver, as he received his fee from Tom.

--_Martin Chuzzlewit._

1. Tom Pinch traveled by the fast night coach to London, in the days before railroads. Tell what he saw, and make sketches.

2. Explain: grays, boot, yo-ho, chaises, paddock, dowager, rickyards, brake, crescents.

3. Charles Dickens (1812-1870), an English novelist, is famous for his humor and for the marvelous characters he has created. Many of his books attack or laugh at abuses and prejudices of his time.

ODE TO A BUTTERFLY

BY THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON

The poet watches the butterfly and speaks to it, guessing in a fanciful way at its origin, commenting on its way of life, and thinking of the symbolic meaning that people in all ages have associated with it.

Thou spark of life that wavest wings of gold, Thou songless wanderer mid the songful birds, With nature's secrets in thy tints unrolled Through gorgeous cipher, past the reach of words, Yet dear to every child 5 In glad pursuit beguiled, Living his unspoiled days mid flowers and flocks and herds!

Thou wingèd blossom, liberated thing, What secret tie binds thee to other flowers, Still held within the garden's fostering? 10 Will they too soar with the completed hours, Take flight, and be like thee Irrevocably free, Hovering at will o'er their parental bowers?

Or is thy luster drawn from heavenly hues-- 15 A sumptuous drifting fragment of the sky, Caught when the sunset its last glance imbues With sudden splendor, and the treetops high Grasp that swift blazonry, Then lend those tints to thee, 20 On thee to float a few short hours, and die?

Birds have their nests; they rear their eager young, And flit on errands all the livelong day; Each field mouse keeps the homestead whence it sprung; But thou art nature's freeman--free to stray Unfettered through the wood, 5 Seeking thine airy food, The sweetness spiced on every blossomed spray.

The garden one wide banquet spreads for thee, O daintiest reveler of the joyous earth! One drop of honey gives satiety; 10 A second draft would drug thee past all mirth. Thy feast no orgy shows; Thy calm eyes never close, Thou soberest sprite to which the sun gives birth.

And yet the soul of man upon thy wings 15 Forever soars in aspiration; thou His emblem of the new career that springs When death's arrest bids all his spirit bow. He seeks his hope in thee Of immortality. 20 Symbol of life, me with such faith endow!

1. What color was the butterfly that the poet watched? What does he imagine it to be in the second stanza? In the third? What does he say about its habits in the fourth stanza? In the fifth?

2. What are the four stages in the life of a butterfly? The Greeks represented Psyche, the soul, with butterfly wings. Why? Express the meaning of the last stanza in your own words.

3. Use these words in sentences of your own: cipher, fostering, imbues, blazonry, satiety, orgy, sprite, arrest, symbol.

4. Thomas Wentworth Higginson (1823-1911) was an American writer of essays and biography.

IN THE DESERT

BY A. W. KINGLAKE

The following sketch vividly describes an English traveler's impression of the desert country that lies between Jerusalem and Cairo. Mr. Kinglake had only an interpreter, two Arabian attendants and two camels in his little caravan.

_Eothen_, the title of the volume from which this selection is extracted, is a Greek word meaning "From the East."

Once during this passage my Arabs lost their way among the hills of loose sand that surrounded us, but after a while we were lucky enough to recover our right line of march. The same day we fell in with a sheik, the head of a family that actually dwells at no great distance 5 from this part of the desert during nine months of the year. The man carried a matchlock, and of this he was inordinately proud, on account of the supposed novelty and ingenuity of the contrivance. We stopped, and sat down and rested awhile, for the sake of a little talk. 10