"THE GREEN TREES WHISPERED." THE green trees whispered low and mild: They were my playmates when a child, Still they looked at me and smiled, And ever whispered, mild and low, Come, be a child once more! And waved their long arms to and fro, And beckoned solemnly and slow; Oh, I could not choose but go Into the woodlands hoar: Into the blithe and breathing air, Into the solemn wood, Solemn and silent everywhere! Nature with folded hands seemed there, Kneeling at her evening prayer! Like one in prayer I stood. THE GREEN TREES WHISPERED. 109 Before me rose an avenue Of tall and sombrous pines ; Abroad their fan-like branches grew, In long and sloping lines. And, falling on my weary brain Like a fast-falling shower, The dreams of youth came back again— Visions of childhood! Stay, oh stay! Thou art no more a child! "The land of Song within thee lies, The lids of Fancy's sleepless eyes 'Learn, that henceforth thy song shall be, “There is a forest where the din Of iron branches sounds! A mighty river roars between, Sees the heavens all black with sin,- "Athwart the swinging branches cast, Then comes the fearful wintry blast: Pallid lips say, 'It is past! We can return no more!' "Look, then, into thine heart, and write! Yes, into Life's deep stream ! All forms of sorrow and delight, LONGFELLOW. THE WANDERING BOY. III THE WANDERING BOY. A SONG. WHEN the winter wind whistles along the wild moor, The winter is cold, and I have no vest, Yet I had a home, and I once had a sire, The wind it is keen, and the snow loads the gale, KIRKE WHITE. "I'M PLEASED, AND YET I'M SAD." WHEN twilight steals along the ground, I at my study-window sit, And, wrapp'd in many a musing fit, But though impressions calm and sweet. The tear-drop stands in either eye, The silvery rack, that flies away Or pleasure's fading vest? |