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Lyrics of Earth   By: (1861-1899)

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First Page:

Thank you to Canadian Poetry [] for providing the source text.

Revised by Jana Srna and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at








Copyright by Copeland and Day, 1895.


The Sweetness of Life 5

God speed to the Snow 7

April in the Hills 8

Forest Moods 9

The Return of the Year 10

Favorites of Pan 11

The Meadow 14

In May 17

Life and Nature 19

With the Night 20

June 21

Distance 24

The Bird and the Hour 25

After Rain 25

Cloud break 27

The Moon path 28

Comfort of the Fields 29

At the Ferry 32

September 35

A Re assurance 38

The Poet's Possession 39

An Autumn Landscape 39

In November 40

By an Autumn Stream 42

Snowbirds 44

Snow 45

Sunset 46

Winter store 48

The Sun Cup 56


Mother, to whose valiant will, Battling long ago, What the heaping years fulfil, Light and song, I owe; Send my little book a field, Fronting praise or blame With the shining flag and shield Of your name.


It fell on a day I was happy, And the winds, the concave sky, The flowers and the beasts in the meadow Seemed happy even as I; And I stretched my hands to the meadow, To the bird, the beast, the tree: "Why are ye all so happy?" I cried, and they answered me.

What sayest thou, Oh meadow, That stretches so wide, so far, That none can say how many Thy misty marguerites are? And what say ye, red roses, That o'er the sun blanched wall From your high black shadowed trellis Like flame or blood drops fall? "We are born, we are reared, and we linger A various space and die; We dream, and are bright and happy, But we cannot answer why."

What sayest thou, Oh shadow, That from the dreaming hill All down the broadening valley Liest so sharp and still? And thou, Oh murmuring brooklet, Whereby in the noonday gleam The loosestrife burns like ruby, And the branch├Ęd asters dream? "We are born, we are reared, and we linger A various space and die; We dream and are very happy, But we cannot answer why."

And then of myself I questioned, That like a ghost the while Stood from me and calmly answered, With slow and curious smile: "Thou art born as the flowers, and wilt linger Thine own short space and die; Thou dream'st and art strangely happy, But thou canst not answer why."


March is slain; the keen winds fly; Nothing more is thine to do; April kisses thee good bye; Thou must haste and follow too; Silent friend that guarded well Withered things to make us glad, Shyest friend that could not tell Half the kindly thought he had. Haste thee, speed thee, O kind snow; Down the dripping valleys go, From the fields and gleaming meadows, Where the slaying hours behold thee, From the forests whose slim shadows, Brown and leafless cannot fold thee, Through the cedar lands aflame With gold light that cleaves and quivers, Songs that winter may not tame, Drone of pines and laugh of rivers. May thy passing joyous be To thy father, the great sea, For the sun is getting stronger; Earth hath need of thee no longer; Go, kind snow, God speed to thee!


To day the world is wide and fair With sunny fields of lucid air, And waters dancing everywhere; The snow is almost gone; The noon is builded high with light, And over heaven's liquid height, In steady fleets serene and white, The happy clouds go on... Continue reading book >>

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