Читать книгу Weeds by the Wall: Verses - Cawein Madison Julius - Страница 6

Where the violet shadows brood

Under cottonwoods and beeches,

Through whose leaves the restless reaches

Of the river glance, I've stood,

While the red-bird and the thrush

Set to song the morning hush.

There, – when woodland hills encroach

On the shadowy winding waters,

And the bluets, April's daughters,

At the darling Spring's approach,

Star their myriads through the trees, —

All the land is one with peace.

Under some imposing cliff,

That, with bush and tree and boulder,

Thrusts a gray, gigantic shoulder

O'er the stream, I've oared a skiff,

While great clouds of berg-white hue

Lounged along the noonday blue.

There, – when harvest heights impend

Over shores of rippling summer,

And to greet the fair new-comer, —

June, – the wildrose thickets bend

In a million blossoms dressed, —

All the land is one with rest.

On some rock, where gaunt the oak

Reddens and the sombre cedar

Darkens, like a sachem leader,

I have lain and watched the smoke

Of the steamboat, far away,

Trailed athwart the dying day.

There, – when margin waves reflect

Autumn colors, gay and sober,

And the Indian-girl, October,

Wampum-like in berries decked,

Sits beside the leaf-strewn streams, —

All the land is one with dreams.

Through the bottoms where, – out-tossed

By the wind's wild hands, – ashiver

Lean the willows o'er the river,

I have walked in sleet and frost,

While beneath the cold round moon,

Frozen, gleamed the long lagoon.

There, – when leafless woods uplift

Spectral arms the storm-blasts splinter,

And the hoary trapper, Winter,

Builds his camp of ice and drift,

With his snow-pelts furred and shod, —

All the land is one with God.