Ο

NCE, Paumanok,

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.

Β'

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,