A keeper of silence eloquent, Needy, yet royally well content, Of the mettled breed, yet abhorring strife, And full of the mellow juice of life, No fidget and no reformer, just A lover of books, but a reader of man, Who never defers and never demands, Seeing it good as when God first saw And O the joy that is never won, But follows and follows the journeying sun, By marsh and tide, by meadow and stream, Delusion afar, delight anear, From morrow to morrow, from year to year, A jack-o'-lantern, a fairy fire, A dare, a bliss, and a desire! The racy smell of the forest loam, When the stealthy, sad-heart leaves go home; (O leaves, O leaves, I am one with you, Of the mould and the sun and the wind and the dew!) The broad gold wake of the afternoon; The sound of the hollow sea's release With only another league to wend; These are the joys of the open road- Bliss Carman THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS At evening when the lamp is lit, They sit at home and talk and sing, Now, with my little gun, I crawl And follow round the forest track There, in the night, where none can spy, All in my hunter's camp I lie, And play at books that I have read Till it is time to go to bed. These are the hills, these are the woods, These are my starry solitudes; And there the river by whose brink The roaring lions come to drink. I see the others far away So, when my nurse comes in for me, Robert Louis Stevenson STORIES IN RHYME PAUL REVERE'S RIDE Listen, my children, and you shall hear Who remembers that famous day and year. He said to his friend, "If the British march Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower as a signal light,— Ready to ride and spread the alarm. Through every Middlesex village and farm, Then he said, "Good night!" and with muffled oar Just as the moon rose over the bay, A phantom ship, with each mast and spar And a huge black hulk, that was magnified Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street, Wanders and watches with eager ears, Till in the silence around him he hears |