Rhymes Of A Rustic PDF Download

Excerpt from Rhymes of a Rustic A Toast to New England (Suggested by a Sicilian Earthquake.) New England with thy rugged coast, Thy granite hills of gray, Oh, let me offer you this toast, On this mid-winter's day! Altho' the blasts are bleak and bold That beat about thy face, Altho' the fogs are chill and cold Which thy rude form embrace, Altho' thy summer days are hot, Thy wintry seasons drear, We're very glad 'twas our sweet lot To have been born right here! For, here, no earthquake shakes the ground On which our homesteads stand; For, here, no tidal billows bound Like demons o'er the land; But, safe on mountain, lake or stream, Or ocean-girded bay, We lie secure to sleep and dream From dusk to dawn of day: God bless thee, then, New England old, Enwrapped in snowflakes white! Thy stormy skies, thy breezes bold Will vanish, soon, from sight, When Spring, with windflowers in her hand, Upon thy hills shall tread, Close followed by a beauteous band, To wake thee from the dead! And, then, for three short months, at most, New England, none shall know That, e'er, the wild winds lashed thy coast Or buried thee in snow, For, streams shall sing and rills shall dance Thy smiling slopes adown, And sunbeams soft shall loving glance On leaves which once were brown! So, tho' thy smile is short, it thrills Thy people, grown most wise, Who choose thy safe, tho' rocky hills, To those 'neath fairer skies! The Wood Anemone Hard by a softly murm'ring stream, 'Neath bending willows bare, 'Mong tangled boughs of budding shrubs I found the wind-flower fair A-trembling on its slender stalk, (Low drooping, too, its eye,) And, never, rarer loveliness I've seen below the sky: Oh, Wood Anemone, so frail, Thou'rt fair as Venus tall, From out whose tears you once didst spring In the form of a floweret small! And, tho' Adonis is no more, And Venus quite forgot, You, far from Greece, (your happy home,) Now, beautify this spot! Thanks, modest bloom, for all the joy You gave me, here, today, By showing me your winsome face So free from pride, alway! My Dogs Seven are the dogs, in my life, I have owned; Six of these pets I have sadly bemoaned; One is yet left lonely hearthstone beside; Here, may he long, safe and happy, abide! First of the troop was fair Flora, so white, Blotched with jet black and my childish delight, Ready, for sweets, on her tiptoes to tread; Nothing but dust is she, now, in her bed: Second came Guess with his brown eyes, so bright, Gleaming like gems in his head, silver white, Willing and glad to be dressed, ev'ry day, Just like a child, in my doll's clothing gay, Then, lying still as a mouse, in cart small, While him I drew round the old garden wall; Now, soft and green, lies the turf on his breast, Far, far away in the Land of the West: Third came good Skip, a small, smart Black and Tan, Each of his ears like a huge, flapping fan, Always so lively, but, ready to rest, Curled in a ball, on my lap, lightly pressed: About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com