Puslapio vaizdai
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Invocation to Rain in Summer

O gentle, gentle summer rain,
Let not the silver lily pine,
The drooping lily pine in vain

To feel that dewy touch of thine-
To drink thy freshness once again,
O gentle, gentle summer rain!

In heat the landscape quivering lies;
The cattle pant beneath the tree;
Through parching air and purple skies
The earth looks up, in vain, for thee;
For thee for thee, it looks in vain,

O gentle, gentle summer rain!

Come, thou, and brim the meadow streams,
And soften all the hills with mist,
O falling dew! from burning dreams
By thee shall herb and flower be kissed;
And Earth shall bless thee yet again,
O gentle, gentle summer rain!


The Latter Rain

The latter rain,-it falls in anxious haste
Upon the sun-dried fields and branches bare,
Loosening with searching drops the rigid waste
As if it would each root's lost strength repair;
But not a blade grows green as in the spring;
No swelling twig puts forth its thickening leaves;
The robins only 'mid the harvests sing,

Pecking the grain that scatters from the sheaves;
The rain falls still, the fruit all ripened drops,
It pierces chestnut-bur and walnut-shell;
The furrowed fields disclose the yellow crops;
Each bursting pod of talents used can tell;
And all that once received the early rain
Declare to man it was not sent in vain.



World Beautiful

The Wind*

I saw you toss the kites on high
And blow the birds about the sky;
And all around I heard you pass,
Like ladies' skirts across the


O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

I saw the different things you did,
But always you yourself you hid,

*From "A Child's Garden of Verses." By courtesy of Charles Scribner's Sons.

The World Beautiful

I felt you push, I heard you call,
I could not see yourself at all—
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!


O that are so strong and cold,
O blower, are you young or old?
Are you a beast of field and tree
Or just a stronger child than me?

O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

Ode to the Northeast Wind
Welcome, wild Northeaster!
Shame it is to see
Odes to every zephyr;
Ne'er a verse to thee.
Welcome, black Northeaster!
O'er the German foam;
O'er the Danish moorlands,

From thy frozen home.
Tired we are of summer,

Tired of gaudy glare,
Showers soft and steaming,
Hot and breathless air.
Tired of listless dreaming,
Through the lazy day;

Jovial wind of winter
Turn us out to play!
Sweep the golden reed-beds;
Crisp the lazy dyke;
Hunger into madness

Every plunging pike.
Fill the lake with wild-fowl;

Fill the marsh with snipe; While on dreary moorlands

Lonely curlew pipe.
Through the black fir forest

Thunder harsh and dry,
Shattering down the snowflakes
Off the curdled sky.
Hark! the brave Northeaster!
Breast-high lies the scent,
On by holt and headland,
Over heath and bent.
Chime, ye dappled darlings,
Through the sleet and snow,
Who can override you?
Let the horses go!
Chime, ye dappled darlings,
Down the roaring blast;
You shall see a fox die

Ere an hour be past.
Go! and rest to-morrow,
Hunting in your dreams,

The World


The World Beautiful


While our skates are ringing
O'er the frozen streams.
Let the luscious South-wind
Breathe in lovers' sighs,
While the lazy gallants

Bask in ladies' eyes.
What does he but soften

Heart alike and pen?
"Tis the hard gray weather

Breeds hard English men.
What's the soft Southwester?

'Tis the ladies' breeze,
Bringing home their true loves
Out of all the seas;
But the black Northeaster,

Through the snowstorm hurled,
Drives our English hearts of oak,
Seaward round the world!
Come! as came our fathers,

Heralded by thee,

Conquering from the eastward,
Lords by land and sea.
Come! and strong within us

Stir the Vikings' blood;
Bracing brain and sinew;
Blow, thou wind of God!


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