. Blood for blood; a legend of the "big elm tree,". 56 Tis where the sunsets amber glowEnfolds the emerald earth.—Wilt go?My plea was lost in that refrain—Beyond the sea lies fairest memory, yet prolong the spell,Prolong my plea with Isabel. The sea is treacherous, I said,And holds in strong embrace its the far and hither shoreThe storm-king revels evermore,And ships go down. This answer fellFrom lips of fairest Isabel: The sea is calm, the ship is strong—And list! I hear the skippers song—He sings and calls and beckons me,To come to him and sail the sings—and sings
. Blood for blood; a legend of the "big elm tree,". 56 Tis where the sunsets amber glowEnfolds the emerald earth.—Wilt go?My plea was lost in that refrain—Beyond the sea lies fairest memory, yet prolong the spell,Prolong my plea with Isabel. The sea is treacherous, I said,And holds in strong embrace its the far and hither shoreThe storm-king revels evermore,And ships go down. This answer fellFrom lips of fairest Isabel: The sea is calm, the ship is strong—And list! I hear the skippers song—He sings and calls and beckons me,To come to him and sail the sings—and sings—O sweet refrainBeyond the sea lies fairest Spain. O memory, cease, nor further tellOf skippers song and Isabel. 57. 58 AN IDLE HOUR Twas in the month when roses bloom, And larks first learn to spread the wing—When God says to His song birds: Sing/ And to His flowers: Give forth perfume. How long ago? I only know I whistled—whistled my first tuneOne idle hour in leafy June— So long ago—so long ago. I had been chasing butterfliesDown in the meadow near the runThat still goes singing to the sun And still reflects cerulean skies; Till wearied, if a boy may be, I sought the cool embrace of shadeWhere singing brook a circuit made To bathe the roots of aspen tree. No marring foot but mine had pressedThe virgin grass that summer day—No village boys were there at play— Secure the robin warmed her nest. 59 And there the linnet piped her layTo linnet in the sighing birch,And cat-bird from his lofty perch Sang anthems to the listening jay. The quaking asp—the sighing birch—The wagon rumbling oer the bridge—The crowing cock across the ridge— The running brook—I, whistling, heard. And this
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookidbloodforbloo, bookyear1906
