A new library of poetry and song: . est! Now is tho high-tide of the year. And whatever of life hath e\llH^l awayl\>mes Hooding Iwek, with a ripply ehoor. Into ovoiy baiv iiih-t and ereok and Kiy ;Now the hoart is so Inll that a di\>p overlills aiv happy now iHoause tn>d wills it ;No matter how Kirivn the jwst may have Ihh-ii,T is oiiough for us now that tho loaves are giwu ;Wo sit in the warm shade and fool right wellHow the sap oitti^s up and the blossoms swell ;Wo may shut our oyos, but wo cannot help know-ingThat skies nnod news Iviok,For other oonrioi-s wo should not lack :
A new library of poetry and song: . est! Now is tho high-tide of the year. And whatever of life hath e\llH^l awayl\>mes Hooding Iwek, with a ripply ehoor. Into ovoiy baiv iiih-t and ereok and Kiy ;Now the hoart is so Inll that a di\>p overlills aiv happy now iHoause tn>d wills it ;No matter how Kirivn the jwst may have Ihh-ii,T is oiiough for us now that tho loaves are giwu ;Wo sit in the warm shade and fool right wellHow the sap oitti^s up and the blossoms swell ;Wo may shut our oyos, but wo cannot help know-ingThat skies nnod news Iviok,For other oonrioi-s wo should not lack : We oould guess it all by yon heifers lowing, —And hark I liow oloar Kdd ehantieltvr,Warmwl with the new wiuo of tho ywir, Tells al in his Instv eivwing !. .^^.^4- POEMS Ol NATI HE. 425 Joy comes, grief goes, «i know iml how ;Everything is happy now, Evorytluiig is upwaril striving ;Tis as easy now for the lieart to be trnoAs for grass to be green or skies to be blue, — T is the natiual way of living ;Who know>; whither the elouils have lied ? In the unsearreil heaven they leave no wake,And the eyes forget the tears they have shed, Tlie heart forgets its sorrow and ache ;The soul |iartakes the seasons youth, And tlie sulphurous rifts of passion and woeLie deep neath a silenee pure and smooth. Like burnt-out craters liealed with snow. jAMlib RUSStLL LOWULL. JUNE. I OAZKii upon the glorious sky. And the green mountains thou^jlit that when I eanie to Ho At rest within tlie ground,T were |ileasant that in llowery .Tune,AVhen brooks send up a cheerful tune, An<l groves a cheerful sextons hand, my grave to make,The rich, green mountain turf should break. A eel! within the frozen mould, A eodin Imrne through sleet,
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectenglishpoetry, bookye
