Song-waves Part 9

O bird of the silver arrows of song, Shy poet of Canada dear, Thy notes prolong, prolong, We listen, we hear: "I--love--dear--Canada, Canada, Canada."

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SUMMER.

O come, unpack the heart of care!

Kingcups sun the meadows o'er, The yellowbugle sudden blows By the river's tidal flows, And the heavens are bare.

_Room, room, and open sky, River or brook or lake hard by, b.u.t.tercups, daisies, gra.s.ses, clover, Bobolinks, meadowlarks--these love I!

Whiskod.i.n.k!_

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Sail, swallows, sail this emerald sea Waving to the west wind's breath!

Earth has few other fields like these, Sweet of sun and tidal breeze, And the droning bee.

_Room, room, and open sky, River or brook or lake hard by, b.u.t.tercups, daisies, gra.s.ses, clover, Bobolinks, meadowlarks--these love I!

Bobolink!_

And now the white clouds sail along, Azure-domed and idle free!

The air is lush with honeyed blooms, Flashing go the summer's looms, List her cheery song:

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_Room, room, and open sky, River or brook or lake hard by, b.u.t.tercups, daisies, gra.s.ses, clover, Bobolinks, meadowlarks--these love I!

Whiskod.i.n.k!_

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GLORY-ROSES.

"Only a penny, Sir!"

A child held to my view A bunch of "glory-roses," red As blood, and wet with dew.

(O earnest little face, With living light in eye, Your roses are too fair for earth, And you seem of the sky!)

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"My beauties, Sir!" he said, "Only a penny, too!"

His face shone in their ruddy glow A Rafael cherub true.

"Yestreen their hoods were close About their faces tight, But ere the sun was up, I saw That G.o.d had come last night.

"O Sir, to see them then!

The bush was all aflame!-- O yes, they're glory-roses, Sir, That is their holy name.

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"Only a penny, Sir!"-- Heaven seemed across the way!

I took the red, red beauties home-- Roses to me for aye!

For aye, that radiant voice As if from heaven it came-- "O yes, they're glory-roses, Sir, That is their holy name!"

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THE WIND.

The lithe wind races and sings Over the gra.s.ses and wheat-- See the emerald floor as it springs To the touch of invisible feet!

Ah, later, the fir and the pine Shall stoop to its weightier tread, As it tramps the thundering brine Till it shudders and whitens in dread!

Breath of man! a gla.s.s of thine own Is the wind on the land, on the sea-- Joy of life at thy touch!--full grown, Destruction and death maybe!

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THE CRYSTAL SPRING.

I.

Fair spirit of the plaining sea, Thou heard'st Apollo's lyre!-- Now folded are thy silver wings Thee sunward bore, A dream and a desire.

Ranging the upper azure deeps, The sunlight on thy wings, How blanched thy purpose as there fell The lightning's stroke, And darkness on all things!

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In agony of rain and hail, And phantom dance of snow, The chastening angels of the air To mountain bleak Consigned thee far below.

There in the arms of heartless frost, And burdened with thy train, The keen stars watched thy ageful way, Till breast of earth Warmed thee to life again.

And in thy course thou wert G.o.d's plow, Thy furrow deep the valley Of wooded walls and flowers to be,-- The circling sun Keeps slow and sure the tally.

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Reborn, thou waitedst not far down The sunless caves to speed-- (Thy twin, lade with unfabled spoils, Did build the plain, Or green the expectant mead,

And weave the fabric, forge the plow, Bear inland steam and sail)-- Or serv'dst, in mines and nether realms Of shadowland, The gnomes and genii pale.