It whispered to the fields of corn, "Bow down, and hail the coming morn." It shouted through the belfry-tower, It crossed the churchyard with a sigh, THE FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY OF 2 AGASSIZ, MAY 28, 1857. T was fifty years ago, In the pleasant month of May, In the beautiful Pays de Vaud, A child in its cradle lay. And Nature, the old nurse, took 66 'Come, wander with me," she said, And read what is still unread And he wandered away and away And whenever the way seemed long, She would sing a more wonderful song, Or tell a more marvellous tale. So she keeps him still a child, Though at times his heart bea's wild Though at times he hears in his dreams From glaciers clear and cold; And the mother at home says, "Hark! For his voice I listen and yearn; It is growing late and dark, And my boy does not return!" CHILDREN. OME to me, O ye children! And the questions that perplexed me Ye open the eastern windows, In your hearts are the birds and the sunshine, In your thoughts the brooklet's flow; But in mine is the wind of Autumn And the first fall of the snow. Ah! what would the world be to us We should dread the desert behind us What the leaves are to the forest, That to the world are children; Come to me, O ye children! And whisper in my ear What the birds and the winds are singing In your sunny atmosphere. For what are all our contrivings, Ye are better than all the ballads And all the rest are dead. |