Old tree! the storm still brave! WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE Under the Greenwood Tree 5 Under the greenwood tree, 10 15 20 And tune his merry note Unto the sweet birds' throat Come hither, come hither, come hither! Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun, Seeking the food he eats, And pleased with what he gets - Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. A SEA DIRGE HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW AMERICA, 1807-1882 The Arrow and the Song I shot an arrow into the air, I breathed a song into the air, Long, long afterward, in an oak WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE A Sea Dirge Full fathom five thy father lies: 17 5 10 15 5 But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange ; Deep in the wave is a coral grove, Where the purple mullet and goldfish rove; Where the sea flower spreads its leaves of blue, That never are wet with the falling dew; 10 But in bright and changeful beauty shine Far down in the green and glassy brine. The floor is of sand, like the mountain's drift, And the pearl shells spangle the flinty snow; From coral rocks the sea plants lift 15 Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow. The water is calm and still below, For the winds and waves are absent there, And the sands are bright as the stars that glow In the motionless fields of upper air. THE CORAL GROVE There, with its waving blade of green, To blush like a banner bathed in slaughter; 19 The fan coral sweeps through the clear, deep 5 sea; And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean Is sporting amid those bowers of stone, 10 And is safe when the wrathful spirit of storms And when the ship from his fury flies, When the myriad voices of ocean roar, When the wind god frowns in the murky 15 skies, And demons are waiting the wreck on shore, Then, far below, in the peaceful sea, The purple mullet and goldfish rove Where the waters murmur tranquilly Through the bending twigs of the coral grove. 20 5 10 15 20 PHEBE CARY AMERICA, 1824-1871 The Leak in the Dike The good dame looked from her cottage "Come, Peter, come! I want you to go, To the hut of the blind old man who lives And take these cakes I made for him You have time enough to go and come Then the good-wife turned to her labor, And thought of the husband, working hard And set the turf a-blazing, And brought the coarse black bread; That he might find a fire at night, |