SONG.

A DAY IN THE WOODS.

ENEATH the trees which gently stirred
With music on each bough,

The waving leaf, the singing bird,

And whispers fairy low,

A long, a bright, long summer's day

Passed, like the stream beside,

Which ran in song and shine away,

Though scarcely seen to glide.

L. E. I..

SONG.

UTUMN winds are sighing,
Summer glories dying,

Harvest time is nigh.

Cooler breezes, quivering,

Through the pine-groves shivering,

Sweep the troubled sky.

See the fields, how yellow!
Clusters, bright and mellow,

Gleam on every hill;
Nectar fills the fountains,

Crowns the sunny mountains,

Runs in every rill.

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218

A GROVE.

Now the lads are springing,
Maidens blithe are singing,

Swells the joyful strain :

Every field rejoices;

Thousand thankful voices

Mingle on the plain.

Then, when day declineth,
And the mild moon shineth,

Tabors sweetly sound;
And, while they are sounding,

Fairy feet are bounding

O'er the moonlit ground.

From the German of Von Salis.

A GROVE.

'N a sweet solitude beside the flood

Was a green grove of willows, trunk-entwined With ivies climbing to the top, whose hood

Of glossy leaves, with all its boughs combined,

So interchains and canopies the wood

That the hot sunbeams can no access find;
The water bathes the mead, the flowers around
It glads and charms the ear with its sweet sound.

The wood, the flowery turf, the winds that wide
Diffused its fragrance, filled them with delight;
Birds of all hues in the fresh bowers they spied,

Retired, and resting from their weary flight.

MAY IN THE WOODS.

It was the hour when hot the sunbeams dried

Earth's spirit up,-'twas noontide, still as night;

Alone, at times, as of o'erbrooding bees,

Mellifluous murmurs sounded from the trees.

From the Spanish.

MAY IN THE WOODS.

PAY, sweet May again is come,

May that frees the land from gloom :
Children, children, up and see

All her stores of jollity!

On the laughing hedgerow's side

She hath spread her treasures wide;

She is in the greenwood shade,

Where the nightingale hath made

Every branch and every tree

Ring with her sweet melody;

Hill and dale are May's own treasures.
Youths, rejoice! In sportive measures

Sing ye! join the chorus gay!
Hail this merry, merry May!

Up, then, children! we will go
Where the blooming roses grow;

In a joyful company

We the bursting flowers will see :

Up! your festal dress prepare!
Where gay hearts are meeting, there

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220

NIGHT IN THE WOODS.

May hath pleasures most inviting,
Heart, and sight, and ear delighting.

Listen to the birds' sweet song,

Hark! how soft it floats along!

Courtly dames our pleasures share;
Never saw I May so fair;
Therefore dancing will we go.
Youths, rejoice! the flowerets blow!
Sing ye! join the chorus gay!
Hail! this merry, merry May!

CONRAD VON KIRCHBERG.

NIGHT IN THE WOODS.

OW great Hyperion left his golden throne,
That on the dancing waves in glory shone;
For whose declining on the western shore
The oriental hills black mantles wore;

And thence apace the gentle Twilight fled,
That had from hideous caverns ushered

All-drowsy Night; who in a car of jet

By steeds of iron-gray is drawn through the sky:
The helps of darkness waited orderly.
The pitchy curtains fell 'twixt earth and heaven,
And as Night's chariot through the air was driven,
Clamour grew dumb, unheard the shepherd's song,
And silence girt the woods; no warbling tongue
Talked to the echo; satyrs broke their dance,
And all the upper world lay in a trance.