But diverse: could we make her as the man, Sweet love were slain: his dearest bond is this, Yet in the long years liker must they grow; He gain in sweetness and in moral height, Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world; Like perfect music unto noble words; And so these twain, upon the skirts of Time, Distinct in individualities, But like each other ev'n as those who love. Then comes the statelier Eden back to men; Then reign the world's great bridals, chaste and calm: BURNS JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER John Greenleaf Whittier was born near Haverhill, Mass., December 17, 1807, and died at Hampton Falls, N. H., September 7, 1892. N° more the simple flowers belong Sown in the common soil of song, In smiles and tears, in sun and showers, The deathless singer and the flowers Wild heather-bells and Robert Burns! The gray sky wears again its gold And manhood's noonday shadows hold The dews that washed the dust and soil I call to mind the summer day The sky with sun and cloud at play, I hear the blackbird in the corn, How oft that day, with fond delay, Bees hummed, birds twittered, overhead I watched him while in sportive mood The poet's allegory. Sweet day, sweet songs! The golden hours Grew brighter for that singing, From brook and bird and meadow flowers A dearer welcome bringing. New light on home-scene nature beamed, New glory over woman; And daily life and duty seemed No longer poor and common. I woke to find the simple truth Of fact and feeling better Than all the dreams that held my youth A still repining debtor That nature gives her handmaid, art, The tender idyls of the heart In every tongue rehearsing. Why dream of lands of gold and pearl, When farmer-boy and barefoot girl, I saw through all familiar things The romance underlying – The joys and griefs that plumed the wings Of Fancy skyward flying. I saw the same blithe day return, The same sweet fall of even, That rose on wooded Craigie-burn, |