The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes — Volume 07: Songs of Many Seasons

Oliver Wendell Holmes

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Vol. 7, by Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it,give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online atwww.gutenberg.netTitle: The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Vol. 7 Songs Of Many Seasons (1862-1874)Author: Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.Release Date: September 30, 2004 [EBook #7394]Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETRY OF HOLMES, VOL. 7 ***Produced by David WidgerTHE POETICAL WORKSOFOLIVER WENDELL HOLMES[Volume 2 of the 1893 three volume set]SONGS OF MANY SEASONS1862-1874OPENING THE WINDOW PROGRAMMEIN THE QUIET DAYS AN OLD-YEAR SONG DOROTHY Q: A FAMILY PORTRAIT THE ORGAN-BLOWER AT THE PANTOMIME AFTER THE FIRE A BALLAD OFTHE BOSTON TEA-PARTY NEARING THE SNOW-LINEIN WAR TIME TO CANAAN: A PURITAN WAR-SONG "THUS SAITH THE LORD, I OFFER THEE THREE THINGS" NEVER OR NOW ONE COUNTRY GOD SAVETHE FLAG! HYMN AFTER THE EMANCIPATION PROCLAMATION HYMN FOR THE FAIR AT CHICAGO UNDER THE WASHINGTON ELM, CAMBRIDGEFREEDOM, OUR QUEEN ARMY HYMN PARTING HYMN THE FLOWER OF LIBERTY THE SWEET LITTLE MAN UNION AND LIBERTY SONGS OF WELCOME AND FAREWELL AMERICA TO RUSSIA WELCOME TO THE GRAND DUKE ALEXIS AT THE BANQUET TO THE GRAND DUKE ALEXIS AT THE BANQUET TO ...

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• Publié par: ansui
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 19
• Langue: English

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Vol. 7, by Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

Title: The Poetical Works of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Vol. 7 Songs Of Many Seasons (1862-1874) Author: Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. Release Date: September 30, 2004 [EBook #7394] Language: English

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POETRY OF HOLMES, VOL. 7 ***

Produced by David Widger

THE POETICAL WORKS

OF

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES

[Volume 2 of the 1893 three volume set]

SONGS OF MANY SEASONS

1862-1874

NAO DLY-AE ROSGN THE QUIET DAYS  WODNORP MARG NI EMOPINENTHG WIE  IME NTOME PAT THREA LBWOAG-N EROTHT AITROR PLYMIAF A :Q YHTOROD  HE SNOW-EARING TP-RAYTN TSNOT AETH OF BOE  AL BD LAIF EA ERETFAHT R THEEFER I OFRD, "SN IHGNEET T RHE ONW NOR  OEREVEVAS DOG YRTNUOCAR TIME  LINE IN W:NA P RUOTC NAAAON-S"TG ANITAR WHT HOL E SUHTIAS A  TAFRIGA OHCCIR THUNDESHINE WAMLE NOTGIRBMAC , EDRE E F DG R OU, OM HT ELFGA !YHNMA FTER THE EMANCIPOITARP NALCOITAM HONN YMR FOE TH OS      YTREBIL DANN IOUNN MAE TL      LE   LRAWEDNF ME AELCOOF WNGS  NMYHEHT TRAP GNI HMYN YMEEQUARN EWTEL TIYTT EHS OF LIBER FLOWER  ETQUAN BE THO  T        EHT TA        S    T TH   A  DUDRGNAELIXEKA  SSRU    IA              EMA ACIR OT  RAND DUKE ALEXISEWCLMO EOTT EHG  ETTIBIH  S'SENEV          DHTR    YA  EMBASSYJAPANESE   RBAYTN         HE TAT           EHT OT TEUQNAB   THET TONQUEE BASAYSE BMENESC IH TNAR         oT   W HON LELGFW   LO         TAA D NINER TO GENERAL G NNID A TDA OT REFAL RAMI    UTAGRR EREW AAF OGALLT Z     ASSI    A      FBAARAHEMOMYRO ICES IN THE SERV SES ROFLAIRREV  NSLI MOME IELKOL C OIWTST T AO  A      G     NBEREHRE DEIRFTTOG NAITSRICHo  T         SHAKESPEARE TERCNAAUYR3 ,01 68 5ARDWEVD ETER JT:LUJ E 12 Y81 ,E 56 ES, RVICRIDGCAMBMEROOCMM NESTAOI5 86 1N,E THR FOLOCNIL MOTSOB ,N M AT THE1869 POEEB R41 , ,ESTPME MOK MENUHA HE ECLL  NOIT FODED TACI E CER THN FO HYM81968  ,UJYLTN , CHE TOFG INAY LEHT TA NOITARBEL TAOI,NA RPLI2 ,3ENTENNIAL CELEBRJ FO NHO R DNA REBO 86 1IN4 EM MY OR H MU8146'T SOBDLRE, T WA25, MAY LEC LAINNOITARBEAYHDRTBIENNTCE:  ENUF LAR TA  EHTF C  O RLHA RVSEESIC ,RA RPLISES MUEN4      RH  29, 187   RUOH NA FO SEMY SSREDD A        INGNO EPT EHF ROH AVFIFTTHE  OF  NEORSTR-E ON HOFAVRAM DRROME LAIHALL, CAMBRIDGE, COOTEB R,61 78 0OR FMNHYED DHE T NOITACIROMEM FOHALLIAL CAMB AT ,E1 IRGDYHNM78 4 TH           ERRDO OT DEVRES MEOP  A          1873RE , NIPSOOTFOB           TID     MEHT ELO EEMITKIL      No  UTH       NIO  FOY EOFNUAT         OSNAHC   A SEA   UEOGALDI 8137Y  .           THEENUE, N.ATRE  ,REPORPTEIR SROEN CNNTEL IANNDI        F ROT EH N WITHOUT MUSIC   c pa ,ym —, oL uces are mes  rhytive  oot llA ;gnos fo exn ai vor ftela arni B , ae gu hymb  t my wint agains semyaht  sool hR .e g inroth ft,ttli LER' KELMERIS "AYHNMAC N INGNO " EP  OMNHYA E,ACPEF  EHT OT FO CISUM  so long Shut aganitst ehf ilhg t HE TIN WW T DO S HUil It tfs eh,hsa ide outss towind ee?t dhs ht erA e ot nldorene id w ?hguor o w eht sI y stick with tan rpiaes S ? ahllt eh itcr'sicoi pneso delgeef   nO t  eht nn y nusksi  yab thehall gs. S stin  deragus no deefy he tllha ? S ysra c lorodehtg yayl , Some wi dow-pane onev demw !s htie,omla a in w, S gs y  mngwi ghou o, ? Gna ,rt dv deesre ike Uncl y,— Go, lf yl! eoTybs'

PROGRAMME

READER—gentle—if so be Such still live, and live for me, Will it please you to be told What my tenscore pages hold?

Here are verses that in spite Of myself I needs must write, Like the wine that oozes first When the unsqueezed grapes have burst.

Here are angry lines, "too hard!" Says the soldier, battle-scarred. Could I smile his scars away I would blot the bitter lay,

Written with a knitted brow, Read with placid wonder now. Throbbed such passion in my heart? Did his wounds once really smart?

Here are varied strains that sing All the changes life can bring, Songs when joyous friends have met, Songs the mourner's tears have wet.

See the banquet's dead bouquet, Fair and fragrant in its day; Do they read the selfsame lines,— He that fasts and he that dines?

Year by year, like milestones placed, Mark the record Friendship traced. Prisoned in the walls of time Life has notched itself in rhyme.

As its seasons slid along, Every year a notch of song, From the June of long ago, When the rose was full in blow,

Till the scarlet sage has come And the cold chrysanthemum. Read, but not to praise or blame; Are not all our hearts the same?

For the rest, they take their chance,— Some may pay a passing glance; Others,-well, they served a turn,— Wherefore written, would you learn?

Not for glory, not for pelf, Not, be sure, to please myself, Not for any meaner ends,— Always "by request of friends."

Here's the cousin of a king,— Would I do the civil thing? Here 's the first-born of a queen; Here 's a slant-eyed Mandarin.

na W ? uodl o ffJ paI polishWould  ra oF gia dn oigla!  ,etiehSP roaler— F h? arig ork ha S t ih safI g erte, Prince  mous man s unseenden sing ewirgnn iWhta sn edercr s b aidro ylohiam S nee  emo und p foe-to tre

As through the forest, disarrayed By chill November, late I strayed, A lonely minstrel of the wood Was singing to the solitude I loved thy music, thus I said, When o'er thy perch the leaves were spread Sweet was thy song, but sweeter now Thy carol on the leafless bough. Sing, little bird! thy note shall cheer The sadness of the dying year.

Turn my pages,—never mind If you like not all you find; Think not all the grains are gold Sacramento's sand-banks hold.

Every field its leanest sheaf, Every book its dullest leaf, Every leaf its weakest line,— Shall it not be so with mine?

Every kernel has its shell, Every chime its harshest bell, Every face its weariest look, Every shelf its emptiest book,

.

Would I just this once comply?— So they teased and teased till I (Be the truth at once confessed) Wavered—yielded—did my best.

When violets pranked the turf with blue And morning filled their cups with dew, Thy slender voice with rippling trill The budding April bowers would fill, Nor passed its joyous tones away When April rounded into May: Thy life shall hail no second dawn,— Sing, little bird! the spring is gone.

gneu aot andloo whe tesot yreve dnA ,gnur d And I rem em rs muedalornu  whe y, Ashindn be ew—rebmeyad-a-ll fuy Th !— wnlo-bll

October 7, 1874.

Best for worst shall make amends, Find us, keep us, leave us friends Till, perchance, we meet again. Benedicite.—Amen!

AN OLD-YEAR SONG

IN THE QUIET DAYS

ht !edahs eht pedew Ho ilttelb  !r iSgn ,  how faie groves b er.eraoo w adsd!irhe t

Fast, fast the lengthening shadows creep, The songless fowls are half asleep, The air grows chill, the setting sun May leave thee ere thy song is done, The pulse that warms thy breast grow cold, Thy secret die with thee, untold The lingering sunset still is bright,— Sing, little bird! 't will soon be night.

The snow has capped yon distant hill, At morn the running brook was still, From driven herds the clouds that rise Are like the smoke of sacrifice; Erelong the frozen sod shall mock The ploughshare, changed to stubborn rock, The brawling streams shall soon be dumb,— Sing, little bird! the frosts have come.

The summer's throbbing chant is done And mute the choral antiphon; The birds have left the shivering pines To flit among the trellised vines, Or fan the air with scented plumes Amid the love-sick orange-blooms, And thou art here alone,—alone,— Sing, little bird! the rest have flown.

1874.

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DOROTHY Q. A FAMILYPORTRAIT

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