And when all were in to the very last, 230 The door in the mountain-side shut fast. Did I say all? No! one was lame, And could not dance the whole of the way; And in after years, if you would blame His sadness, he was used to say, 235 'It's dull in our town since my playmates left; I can't forget that I'm bereft Of all the pleasant sights they see, Which the Piper also promised me ; For he led us, he said, to a joyous land, 240 A text which says, that Heaven's Gate As the needle's eye takes a camel in! 260 The Mayor sent East, West, North, and South, To offer the Piper by word of mouth, Wherever it was men's lot to find him, Silver and gold to his heart's content, If he'd only return the way he went, 265 270 'And so long after what happened here On the twenty-second of July, 275 Thirteen hundred and seventy-six :' 280 To shock with mirth a street so solemn; But opposite the place of the cavern 285 Long time ago in a mighty band Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land, So, Willy, let you and me be wipers Of scores out with all men-especially pipers: 300 And, whether they pipe us free from rats or from mice, If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise. Robert Browning. CCLXIII AUTUMN WOODS. Ere, in the northern gale, The summer tresses of the trees are gone, The mountains, that infold In their wide sweep the coloured landscape round, I roam the woods that crown The upland, where the mingled splendours glow, On the green fields below. My steps are not alone In these bright walks; the sweet south-west at play, Along the winding way. And far in heaven, the while, The sun, that sends that gale to wander here, Pours out on the fair earth his quiet smile,— The sweetest of the year. Where now the solemn shade, Verdure and gloom where many branches meet- 5 10 15 20 Let in through all the trees 25 Come the strange rays: the forest depths are bright; Twinkles, like beams of light. The rivulet, late unseen, Where bickering through the shrubs its waters run, 30 Oh, Autumn! why so soon Depart the hues that make thy forests glad; Thy gentle wind and thy fair sunny noon, Ah! 'twere a lot too blest, For ever in thy coloured shades to stray; To rove and dream for aye; And leave the vain low strife That makes men mad—the tug for wealth and power, The passions and the cares that wither life, And waste its little hour. 40 45 William Cullen Bryant. CCLXIV LAPSE. A heavenly Night!-methinks to me Drops in the wind-flower's scarlet urns, When sunset, like a city, burns 5 Across the glassy midland sea. This night gives back that double day, Which clothed the earth when I was young! By parted hero-angels sung : It stirred my heart; and through my tongue The entrancement of that time is o'er, A calmer, freer soul is here; I dream not as I dreamed of yore, Farewell, wild world of bygone days, Thomas Burbidge. ΙΟ 15 20 CCLXV THE HUMBLE-BEE. Burly, dozing humble-bee, Insect lover of the sun, 5 ΙΟ |