The Poems of Henry Van Dyke | Page 6

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 the
day your heart will say, "'Tis luck enough to live."
This is the song the Brown Thrush flings
Out of his thicket of roses;

Hark how it bubbles and rings,
Mark how it closes:
_Luck, luck,
What luck?
Good enough for me,
I'm alive, you see!
Sun shining,
No repining;