But life becomes eventful–then
His busy hand forgets the pen.
Most books, indeed, are records less
Of fulness than of emptiness.
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October – and the skies are cool and gray
Bare meadow, and the slowly falling leaf.The dignity of woods in rich decayAccords full well with this majestic griefThat clothes our solemn purple hills to-day,Whose afternoon is hush’d, and wintry briefOnly a robin sings from any spray.And night sends up her pale cold moon, and spillsWhite mist around the hollows of the hills,Phantoms of firth…
Four ducks on a pond,
A blue sky of spring,White clouds on the wing;What a little thingTo remember for years-To remember with tears!
The Abbot of Innisfallen
Under the dewy green leaveswent he forth to pray.The lake around his islandlay smooth and dark and deep,And wrapt in a misty stillnessthe mountains were all asleep.Low kneel’d the Abbot Cormacwhen the dawn was dim and gray;The prayers of his holy officehe faithfully ‘gan say.Low kneel’d the Abbot Cormacwhile the dawn was waxing red;And for…
A sunset’s mounded cloud;
Sad blue hills afar;Love in his shroud.Scarcely a tear to shed;Hardly a word to say;The end of a summer day;Sweet Love dead.
See how a Seed, which Autumn flung down,
Uncoils two little green leaves and two brown,With tiny root taking hold on the clayAs, lifting and strengthening day by day,It pushes red branchless, sprouts new leaves,And cell after cell the Power in it weavesOut of the storehouse of soil and clime,To fashion a Tree in due course of time;Tree with rough bark and boughs’…
Up the airy mountain,
We daren’t go a-huntingFor fear of little men;Wee folk, good folk,Trooping all together;Green jacket, red cap,And white owl’s feather!Down along the rocky shoreSome make their home,They live on crispy pancakesOf yellow tide-foam;Some in the reedsOf the black mountain lake,With frogs for their watch-dogs,All night awake.High on the hill-topThe old King sits;He is now so old…