Читать книгу Poems - Henry Reed Conant - Страница 9

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I love to stroll amid the silent wood

Where naught is found to break the quietude,

Except the woodland tenants, or the breeze

Among the tender ferns and tow’ring trees.

Here sports the timid hare in wanton glee,

While may be heard from yonder chestnut tree

The squirrel chirping to its mate near by,

Which gaily answers with a prompt reply.

Here many a brooklet ripples on its way,

Here countless birds employ their sweetest lay,

And here and there the startled otter springs,

While oft a partridge hies on whirring wings.

What are the palaces of kings and lords

Compared with all that nature here affords?

These forest charms are dearer to my heart

Than all the pomp of royalty and art.