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w, Thou Winter Wind" 2891

ls, that have made me your sport,
to this desolate shore
ordial endearing report

d I shall visit no more:

nds, do they now and then send
or a thought after me?

he I yet have a friend,

a friend I am never to see.

et is a glance of the mind! red with the speed of its flight, mpest itself lags behind, e swift-wingèd arrows of light. I think of my own native land, oment I seem to be there; s! recollection at hand urries me back to despair.

e sea-fowl is gone to her nest, ast is laid down in his lair; here is a season of rest, to my cabin repair.

Is mercy in every place,

hercy, encouraging thought!

even affliction a grace

econciles man to his lot.

William Cowper [1731-1800]

BLOW, THOU WINTER WIND"

From "As You Like It "

w, blow, thou winter wind,

pu art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude;

y tooth is not so keen,

cause thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.

sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly;

dship is feigning, most loving mere folly:

en, heigh-ho, the holly!

s life is most jolly!

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Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
Thou dost not bite so nigh

As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,

Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend remembered not.

Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly;
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh-ho, the holly!

This life is most jolly!

William Shakespeare (1564-1616]

THE HOUSE BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD

THERE are hermit souls that live withdrawn

In the place of their self-content;

There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;

There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
Where highways never ran—

But let me live by the side of the road

And be a friend to man.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by-

The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.

I would not sit in the scorner's seat

Or hurl the cynic's ban

Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,

The men who are faint with the strife,

But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears,

Both parts of an infinite plan

Let me live in a house by the side of the road

And be a friend to man.

Man With the Hoe

brook-gladdened meadows ahead,
of wearisome height;

ses on through the long afternoon
way to the night.

when the travelers rejoice

the strangers that moan,

use by the side of the road o dwells alone.

house by the side of the road,

ce of men go by—

2893

ey are bad, they are weak, they are strong,

so am I.

I sit in the scorner's seat, hic's ban?

y house by the side of the road

d to man.

Sam Walter Foss [1858-1911]

E MAN WITH THE HOE

SEEING MILLET'S WORLD-FAMOUS PAINTING

His own image, in the image of God made He him.

the weight of centuries he leans

-GENESIS

be and gazes on the ground,

ess of ages in his face,

back the burden of the world.

him dead to rapture and despair, t grieves not and that never hopes, stunned, a brother to the ox? hed and let down this brutal jaw?

the hand that slanted back this brow? ath blew out the light within this brain?

Thing the Lord God made and gave >minion over sea and land;

he stars and search the heavens for power; passion of Eternity?

Is this the Dream He dreamed who shaped the suns
And pillared the blue firmament with light?
Down all the stretch of Hell to its last gulf

There is no shape more terrible than this—

More tongued with censure of the world's blind greed-
More filled with signs and portents for the soul-
More fraught with menace to the universe.

What gulfs between him and the seraphim!
Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him
Are Plato and the swing of Pleiades?
What the long reaches of the peaks of song,
The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose?
Through this dread shape the suffering ages look;
Time's tragedy is in that aching stoop;
Through this dread shape humanity betrayed,
Plundered, profaned and disinherited,
Cries protest to the Judges of the World,
A protest that is also prophecy.

O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,

Is this the handiwork you give to God,

This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched?
How will you ever straighten up this shape;
Touch it again with immortality;

Give back the upward looking and the light;
Rebuild in it the music and the dream;
Make right the immemorial infamies,
Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?

O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
How will the Future reckon with this Man?
How answer his brute question in that hour
When whirlwinds of rebellion shake the world?
How will it be with kingdoms and with kings-
With those who shaped him to the thing he is
When this dumb Terror shall reply to God,
After the silence of the centuries?

Edwin Markham [1852

The Man With the Hoe

2895

HE MAN WITH THE HOE

A REPLY

rmit Nature to take her own way: she better understands n we.-MONTAIGNE

eads not our labels, "great" and "small"; he one and all

wing, win and hold the vacant place; royal race.

e, rough-cast, with rigid arm and limb, er molded him,

e realm ruler and demigod,

e rock and clod.

re is no "better" and no "worse,"

red head no curse.

It is and bowed; so is he crowned gdom is the ground.

Le burdens on the one stern road

rs each back its load;

toil, but neither high nor low. or sword or hoe,

as put out strength, lo, he is strong;

ch spade or song

t questions,-"This one, shall he stay?"

rs "Yea," or "Nay,"

he digs, he sings"; and he bides on, rs, and is gone.

hall he have, the toiler, strength and grace, his place

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