FIFTH YEAR - FIRST HALF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE A Violet Bank I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, JOHN KEATS ENGLAND, 1795-1821 The Dove I had a dove, and the sweet dove died; And I have thought it died of grieving; Sweet little red feet, why should you die? 5 10 You lived alone in the forest tree, Why, pretty thing, would you not live with me? WILLIAM MOTHERWELL SCOTLAND, 1797-1835 Sing on, Blithe Bird! 5 I've plucked the berry from the bush, the brown nut from the tree, But heart of happy little bird ne'er broken was by me. I saw them in their curious nests, close couching, slyly peer With their wild eyes, like glittering beads, to note if harm were near; I passed them by, and blessed them all; I felt that it was good 10 To leave unmoved the creatures small whose home was in the wood. And here, even now, above my head, a lusty rogue doth sing, He pecks his swelling breast and neck, and trims his little wing. THE GLADNESS OF NATURE 9 He will not fly; he knows full well, while chirping on that spray, I would not harm him for a world, or interrupt his lay. Sing on, sing on, blithe bird! and fill my heart with summer gladness. It has been aching many a day with measures full of sadness! WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT AMERICA, 1794-1878 The Gladness of Nature Is this the time to be cloudy and sad, When our mother Nature laughs around, When even the deep blue heavens look glad, And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground? There are notes of joy from the hangbird and wren, 5 And the gossip of swallows through all the 10 sky, The ground-squirrel gayly chirps by his den, The clouds are at play in the azure space, And their shadows at play on the bright green And here they stretch to the frolic chase, 5 There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower, There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree, There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower, And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea. And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles 10 On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray, On the leaping waters and gay young isles, Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away! HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW An April Day When the warm sun, that brings Seedtime and harvest, has returned again, 15 'Tis sweet to visit the still wood, where springs The first flower of the plain. |