COME, spread your wings, as I spread mine, For where the eyes of twilight shine These are the pleasant Berkshire hills, A thousand rills; they leap and shine, A hundred brooks, and still they run 1 This and the following poem were read by Holmes as postludes to lectures given by him at the Lowell Institute in Boston, in 1853, on English Poetry of the Nineteenth Century. Two years later Lowell lectured at the same Institute on English Poetry from its Origins to Wordsworth. Till, clustering all their braids in one, They flow a single stream. A bracelet spun from mountain mist, This is my bark, a pygmy's ship; Float we the grassy banks between; Without an oar we glide; The meadows, drest in living green, Unroll on either side. Come, take the book we love so well, Up to the clouds the lark has sprung, The linnet sings as there he sung; And daisies strew the banks along, And yellow kingcups shine, With cowslips, and a primrose throng, And humble celandine. Ah foolish dream! when Nature nursed On the young planet's orient shore Take what she gives, her pine's tall stem, Look on the forests' ancient kings, Nor think that Nature saves her bloom And slights our grassy plain; 20 30 40 50 Where in its old historic splendor stands The memory, O Hudson, came to me Of one who went to seek the wide world o'er For Love, but found it not. Then home turned he And saw his mother waiting at the door. So, parted by the rolling flood, Of mingling smiles to bud and flower; Though fiery sun and stiffening cold (1861.) WHEN life hath run its largest round 10 Whose sight was open to embrace When, stricken by the freezing blast, No medal lifts its fretted face, Nor speaking marble cheats your eye, Yet, while these pictured lines I trace, A living image passes by: A roof beneath the mountain pines; These are the scenes: a boy appears; Yet pause upon the noontide hour, Ere the declining sun has laid His bleaching rays on manhood's power, And look upon the mighty shade. No gloom that stately shape can hide, No change uncrown its brow; behold! 20 30 Dark, calm, large-fronted, lightning-eyed, Earth has no double from its mould! Ere from the fields by valor won The battle-smoke had rolled away, And bared the blood-red setting sun, His eyes were opened on the day. His land was but a shelving strip Black with the strife that made it free; He lived to see its banners dip Their fringes in the Western sea. The boundless prairies learned his name, His words the mountain echoes knew. The Northern breezes swept his fame From icy lake to warm bayou. In toil he lived; in peace he died; When life's full cycle was complete Put off his robes of power and pride, And laid them at his Master's feet. 40 50 The raid that swooped with sword and flame, Give place to law and order.' Not while the rocking steeples reel Not while the crashing war-notes peal, Or shrieks a cry of warning The lark of Scotia's morning sky! 30 40 |