Songs Out of Doors | Page 3

have kept the freedom Nature gave.
Even so the wild-woods of Manhattan
Saw your wheeling flocks of
white and gray;
Even so you fluttered, followed, floated,
Round the
_Half-Moon_ creeping up the bay;
Even so your voices creaked and
chattered,
Laughing shrilly o'er the tidal rips,
While your black and
beady eyes were glistening
Round the sullen British prison-ships.
Children of the elemental mother,
Fearless floaters 'mid the double
blue,
From the crowded boats that cross the ferries
Many a longing
heart goes out to you.
Though the cities climb and close around us,

Something tells us that our souls are free,
While the sea-gulls fly
above the harbour,
While the river flows to meet the sea!
December, 1905.
THE RUBY-CROWNED KINGLET
I
Where's your kingdom, little king?
Where the land you call your own,

Where your palace and your throne?
Fluttering lightly on the wing

Through the blossom-world of May,
Whither lies your royal way,
Little king?
_Far to northward lies a land
Where the trees together stand
Closely
as the blades of wheat
When the summer is complete.
Rolling like
an ocean wide
Over vale and mountainside,
Balsam, hemlock,

spruce and pine,--
All those mighty trees are mine.
There's a river
flowing free,--
All its waves belong to me.
There's a lake so clear
and bright
Stars shine out of it all night;
Rowan-berries round it
spread
Like a belt of coral red.
Never royal garden planned
Fair
as my Canadian land!
There I build my summer nest,
There I reign
and there I rest,
While from dawn to dark I sing,
Happy kingdom!
Lucky king!_
II
Back again, my little king!
Is your happy kingdom lost
To the rebel
knave, Jack Frost?
Have you felt the snow-flakes sting?
Houseless,
homeless in October,
Whither now? Your plight is sober,
Exiled king!
_Far to southward lie the regions
Where my loyal flower-legions

Hold possession of the year,
Filling every month with cheer.

Christmas wakes the winter rose;
New Year daffodils unclose;

Yellow jasmine through the wood
Flows in February flood,

Dropping from the tallest trees
Golden streams that never freeze.

Thither now I take my flight
Down the pathway of the night,
Till I
see the southern moon
Glisten on the broad lagoon,
Where the
cypress' dusky green,
And the dark magnolia's sheen,
Weave a
shelter round my home.
There the snow-storms never come;
There
the bannered mosses gray
Like a curtain gently sway,
Hanging low
on every side
Round the covert inhere I bide,
Till the March azalea
glows,
Royal red and heavenly rose,

Through the Carolina glade

Where my winter home is made.
There I hold my southern court,

Full of merriment and sport:
There I take my ease and sing,
Happy
kingdom! Lucky king!_
III
Little boaster, vagrant king,
Neither north nor south is yours,


You've no kingdom that endures!
Wandering every fall and spring,

With your ruby crown so slender,
Are you only a Pretender,
Landless king?
_Never king by right divine
Ruled a richer realm than mine!
What
are lands and golden crowns,
Armies, fortresses and towns,
Jewels,
sceptres, robes and rings,--
What are these to song and wings?

Everywhere that I can fly,
There I own the earth and sky;

Everywhere that I can sing,
There I'm happy as a king._
1900.
THE ANGLER'S REVEILLE
What time the rose of dawn is laid across the lips of night, And all the
little watchman-stars have fallen asleep in light, 'Tis then a merry wind
awakes, and runs from tree to tree,
And borrows words from all the
birds to sound the reveille.
This is the carol the Robin throws
Over the edge of the valley;

Listen how boldly it flows,
Sally on sally:
_Tirra-lirra,
Early morn,
New born!
Day is near,
Clear, clear.

Down the river
All a-quiver,
Fish are breaking;
Time for waking,

Tup, tup, tup!
Do you hear?
All clear--
Wake up!_
The phantom flood of dreams has ebbed and vanished with the dark,
And like a dove the heart forsakes the prison of the ark;
Now forth
she fares thro' friendly woods and diamond-fields of dew, While every
voice cries out "Rejoice!" as if the world were new.
This is the ballad the Bluebird sings,
Unto his mate replying,

Shaking the tune from his wings
While he is flying:
_Surely, surely, surely,

Life is dear
Even here.
Blue above,
You to love,
Purely, purely, purely._
There's wild azalea on the hill, and iris down the dell,
And just one
spray of lilac still abloom beside the well;
The columbine adorns the
rocks, the laurel buds grow pink,
Along the stream white arums
gleam, and violets bend to drink.
This is the song of the Yellow-throat,
Fluttering gaily beside you;

Hear how each voluble note
Offers to guide you:
_Which way, sir?
I say, sir,
Let me teach you,
I beseech you!

Are you wishing
Jolly fishing?
This way, sir!
I'll teach you._
Then come, my friend, forget your foes and leave your fears behind,
And wander forth to try your luck, with cheerful, quiet mind; For be
your fortune great or small, you take what God will give, And all