And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home; 20 When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill, The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore, And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more. And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died, 25 The fair meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side.° In the cold moist earth we laid her, when the forests cast the leaf, And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief: Yet not unmeet° it was that one, like that young friend of ours, So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers. 30 THE GLADNESS OF NATURE Is this a time to be cloudy and sad, When our mother Nature laughs around; And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground? There are notes of joy from the hang-bird° and wren, 5 The clouds are at play in the azure space And their shadows at play on the bright-green vale, 10 And here they stretch to the frolic chase, And there they roll on the easy gale. There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower, There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree, There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower, 15 And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea. And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN° THOU blossom bright with autumn dew, Thou comest not when violets lean Thou waitest late and com'st alone, 20 5 10 Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye Blue- blue I would that thus, when I shall see SONG OF MARION'S MEN OUR band is few but true and tried, The British soldier trembles When Marion's name is told. As seamen know the sea. We know its walls of thorny vines, Its safe and silent islands Within the dark morass. Woe to the English soldiery That little dread us near! On them shall light at midnight When, waking to their tents on fire, And they who stand to face us And they who fly in terror deem° And hear the tramp of thousands 20 20 Then sweet the hour that brings release 25 From danger and from toil : We talk the battle over, And share the battle's spoil. The woodland rings with laugh and shout, And woodland flowers are gathered To crown the soldier's cup. With merry songs we mock the wind And slumber long and sweetly Well knows the fair and friendly moon The glitter of their rifles, The scampering of their steeds. 30 30 35 47 Grave men there are by broad Santee,° THE CROWDED STREET LET me move slowly through the street, Amid the sound of steps that beat The murmuring walks like autumn rain. How fast the flitting figures come! The mild, the fierce, the stony face; Some bright with thoughtless smiles, and some Where secret tears have left their trace. They pass to toil, to strife, to rest; To chambers where the funeral guest And some to happy homes repair, Where children, pressing cheek to cheek, |