SUMMER WOODS.
Come ye into the summer-woods;
There entereth no annoy;
All greenly wave the chesnut leaves,
And the earth is full of joy.
I cannot tell you half the sights
Of beauty you may see,
The bursts of golden sunshine,
And many a shady tree.
There, lightly swung, in bowery glades,
The honey-suckles twine;
There blooms the rose-red campion,
And the dark-blue columbine.
There grows the four-leaved plant “true love,”
In some dusk woodland spot;
There grows the enchanter’s night-shade,
And the wood forget-me-not.
And many a merry bird is there,
Unscared by lawless men;
The blue-winged jay, the wood-pecker,
And the golden-crested wren.
Come down and ye shall see them all,
The timid and the bold;
For their sweet life of pleasantness,
It is not to be told.
And far within that summer-wood,
Among the leaves so green,
There flows a little gurgling brook,
The brightest e’er was seen.
There comes the little gentle birds,
Without a fear of ill;
Down to the murmuring water’s edge,
And freely drink their fill!
And dash about and splash about,
The merry little things:
And look askance with bright black eyes,
And flirt their dripping wings.
I’ve seen the freakish squirrel drop
Down from their leafy tree,
The little squirrels with the old,—
Great joy it was to me!
And down unto the running brook;
I’ve seen them nimbly go;
And the bright water seemed to speak
A welcome kind and low.
The nodding plants they bowed their heads,
As if, in heartsome cheer,
They spake unto those little things,
“Tis merry living here!”
Oh, how my heart ran o’er with joy!
I saw that all was good,
And how we might glean up delight
All round us, if we would!
And many a wood-mouse dwelleth there,
Beneath the old wood-shade,
And all day long has work to do,
Nor is, of aught, afraid.
The green shoots grow above their heads,
And roots so fresh and fine,
Beneath their feet, nor is there strife
’Mong them for mine and thine.
There is enough for every one,
And they lovingly agree;
We might learn a lesson, all of us,
Beneath the green-wood tree!