TO A WATERFOWL Whither, 'midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, Seek'st thou the plashy brink Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, Or where the rocking billows rise and sink On the chafed ocean side? There is a power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast, The desert and illimitable air Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near. And soon that toil shall end; Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend, Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest. Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven Hath swallowed up thy form; yet on my heart Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart. He who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, Will lead my steps aright. THE HURRICANE Lord of the winds! I feel thee nigh, And lo! on the wing of the heavy gales, Through the boundless arch of heaven he sails; Silent, and slow, and terribly strong, The mighty shadow is borne along, While the world below, dismayed and dumb, They darken fast-and the golden blaze A beam that touches, with hues of death, While the hurricane's distant voice is heard, And the forests hear and answer the sound. How his gray skirts toss in the whirling gale; And fold, at length, in their dark embrace, As the fire-bolts leap to the world below, What roar is that?-'Tis the rain that breaks, Ah! well-known woods, and mountains, and skies, The shadowy tempest that sweeps through space, Of the crystal heaven, and buries all. TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, Thou comest not when violets lean Thou waitest late, and com'st alone, Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye I would that thus, when I shall see Hope, blossoming within my heart, (Compare with this Freneau's The Wild Honeysuckle, supra, p. 53, and Wordsworth's To the Small Celandine.) Knickerbocker's History, books V, VI, and VII. The Christmas Dinner, in The Sketch Book. For Collateral Reading Longfellow, H. W.: In the Churchyard at Tarrytown. II. COOPER For Further Illustration The Deerslayer, chapters XXVII to XXXI. The Pilot, chapters I to IV. The Pioneers, chapters III and XXVIII. Corporal Flint's Murder, in The Oak Openings. For Collateral Reading Bryant's Memorial Address, in Orations and Addresses of W. C. Bryant. For Further Illustration III. WEBSTER First Bunker Hill Oration. Reply to Hayne. Second Bunker Hill Oration. For Collateral Reading Whittier, J. G.: Ichabod. The Lost Occasion. For Further Illustration IV. POE A Descent into the Maelstrom The Fall of the House of Usher Prose. For Collateral Reading Boner, J. H.: Poe's Cottage at Fordham. Whitman, Sarah Helen: Sonnets, in Stedman's An American Anthology. For Further Illustration V. BRYANT A Lifetime (Biographical.) The Inscription for the Entrance to a Wood. The Planting of the Apple Tree. The Song of Marion's Men. For Collateral Reading Lowell, J. R.: On Board the '76. A Fable for Critics. (His characterization of Bryant.) Whitman, W.: My Tribute to Four Poets (in Specimen Days). II. Of Lesser Note From the time of Irving to the rise of the brilliant New England group about the middle of the century, New York was the loadstar that attracted the man of letters. Here he could get work on one or several of the many periodicals that flourished during these years, and here he could find congenial companions, men of similar tastes and talents. Fitz-Greene Halleck (1790-1867) and Joseph Rodman Drake (1795-1820) were two of the early New York group of writers. The friendship of these men is one of the most interesting in all literary history. Halleck is remembered to-day for his beautiful lines written on the death of his friend, and Drake for his poem The American Flag, of which the four concluding lines were written by Halleck. I. Fitz-Greene Halleck ON THE DEATH OF JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE Green be the turf above thee, Friend of my better days! |