NCE, Paumanok,

ΟΙ

When the snows had melted, and the Fifth-month grass was growing,

Up this sea-shore, in some briars,

Two guests from Alabama,-two together,

And their nest, and four light green eggs, spotted with brown,

And every day the he-bird, to and fro near at hand, And every day the she-bird, crouched on her nest, silent, with bright eyes,

And every day I, a curious boy, never too close, never disturbing them,

Cautiously peering, absorbing, translating.

"Shine! shine! shine!

Pour down your warmth, great Sun!

While we bask-we two together.

"Two together!

Winds blow south, or winds blow north
Day come white, or night come black,

Home, or rivers and mountains from home,
Singing all time, minding no time,
If we two but keep together."

Till, of a sudden,

Maybe killed, unknown to her mate,

One forenoon the she-bird crouched not on the nest, Nor returned that afternoon, nor the next,

Nor ever appeared again.

And thenceforward, all summer, in the sound of the

sea,

And at night, under the full of the moon, in calmer weather,

Over the hoarse surging of the sea,

Or flitting from briar to briar by day,

I saw, I heard at intervals, the remaining one, the hebird,

The solitary guest from Alabama.

"Blow! blow! blow!

Blow up, sea-winds, along Paumanok's shore!

I wait and I wait, till you blow my mate to me."

Yes, when the stars glistened,

All night long, on the prong of a moss-scalloped stake, Down, almost amid the slapping waves,

Sat the lone singer, wonderful, causing tears.

He called on his mate;

He poured forth the meanings which I, of all men, know.

'Soothe! soothe! soothe!

Close on its wave soothes the wave behind,

And again another behind, embracing and lapping, every one close,

But my love soothes not me, not me.

"Low hangs the moon-it rose late.

O, it is lagging-O I think it is heavy with love, with love.

"O, madly the sea pushes, pushes upon the land, With love-with love.

"O night! do I not see my love fluttering out there

among the breakers?

What is that little black thing I see there in the white?

"Loud! loud! loud!

Loud I call to you, my love!

High and clear I shoot my voice over the waves;
Surely you must know who is here, is here;
You must know who I am, my love!

"Low-hanging moon!

What is that dusky spot in your brown yellow? O, it is the shape, the shape of my mate!

O moon, do not keep her from me any longer.

"Land! land! O land!

Whichever way I turn, O, I think you could give me my mate back again, if you only would;

For I am almost sure I see her dimly whichever way I look.

"O rising stars:

Perhaps the one I want so much will rise, will rise with some of you.

"O throat! O trembling throat!

Sound clearer through the atmosphere!

Pierce the woods, the earth;

Somewhere listening to catch you, must be the one I

want.

"Shake out, carols!

Solltary here-the night's carols!

Carols of lonesome love! Death's carols!

B

URLY, dozing humblebee!

Where thou art is clime for me;

Let them sail for Porto Rique,
Far-off heats through seas to seek,
I will follow thee alone,
Thou animated torrid zone!
Zigzag steerer, desert cheerer,
Let me chase thy waving lines;
Keep me nearer, me thy hearer,
Singing over shrubs and vines.

Insect lover of the sun,
Joy of thy dominion!
Sailor of the atmosphere;
Swimmer through the waves of air,
Voyager of light and noon,
Epicurean of June!
Wait, I prithee, till I come
Within earshot of thy hum-

All without is martyrdom.

When the south-wind, in May days,
With a net of shining haze

Silvers the horizon wall;

And, with softness touching all,

Tints the human countenance
With the color of romance;
And infusing subtle heats
Turns the sod to violets-
Thou in sunny solitudes,
Rover of the underwoods,
The green silence dost displace
With thy mellow breezy bass.
Hot midsummer's petted crone,
Sweet to me thy drowsy tone
Tells of countless sunny hours,
Long days and solid banks of flowers;
Of gulfs of sweetness without bound,
In Indian wildernesses found;
Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure,