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the home book of verse-3-第53部分

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And O the joy that is never won;

But follows and follows the journeying sun;



By marsh and tide; by meadow and stream;

A will…o'…the…wind; a light…o'…dream;



Delusion afar; delight anear;

From morrow to morrow; from year to year;



A jack…o'…lantern; a fairy fire;

A dare; a bliss; and a desire!



The racy smell of the forest loam;

When the stealthy; sad…heart leaves go home;



(O leaves; O leaves; I am one with you;

Of the mould and the sun and the wind and the dew!)



The broad gold wake of the afternoon;

The silent fleck of the cold new moon;



The sound of the hollow sea's release

From stormy tumult to starry peace;



With only another league to wend;

And two brown arms at the journey's end!



These are the joys of the open road …

For him who travels without a load。



Bliss Carman '1861…1929'





THE SONG OF THE FOREST RANGER



Oh; to feel the fresh breeze blowing

From lone ridges yet untrod!

Oh; to see the far peak growing

Whiter as it climbs to God!



Where the silver streamlet rushes

I would follow … follow on

Till I heard the happy thrushes

Piping lyrics to the dawn。



I would hear the wild rejoicing

Of the wind…blown cedar tree;

Hear the sturdy hemlock voicing

Ancient epics of the sea。



Forest aisles would I be winding;

Out beyond the gates of Care;

And; in dim cathedrals; finding

Silence at the shrine of Prayer。



When the mystic night comes stealing

Through my vast; green room afar;

Never king had richer ceiling …

Beaded bough and yellow star!



Ah; to list the sacred preaching

Of the forest's faithful fir;

With his strong arms upward reaching …

Mighty; trustful worshipper!



Come and learn the joy of living!

Come and you will understand

How the sun his gold is giving

With a great; impartial hand!



How the patient pine is climbing;

Year by year to gain the sky;

How the rill makes sweetest rhyming;

Where the deepest shadows lie。



I am nearer the great Giver;

Where His handiwork is crude;

Friend am I of peak and river;

Comrade of old Solitude。



Not for me the city's riot!

Not for me the towers of Trade!

I would seek the house of Quiet;

That the Master Workman made!



Herbert Bashford '1871…1928'





A DROVER



To Meath of the pastures;

From wet hills by the sea;

Through Leitrim and Longford;

Go my cattle and me。



I hear in the darkness

Their slipping and breathing …

I name them the bye…ways

They're to pass without heeding;



Then; the wet; winding roads;

Brown bogs with black water;

And my thoughts on white ships

And the King o' Spain's daughter。



O! farmer; strong farmer!

You can spend at the fair;

But your face you must turn

To your crops and your care。



And soldiers … red soldiers!

You've seen many lands;

But you walk two by two;

And by captain's commands。



O! the smell of the beasts;

The wet wind in the morn;

And the proud and hard earth

Never broken for corn;



And the crowds at the fair;

The herds loosened and blind;

Loud words and dark faces

And the wild blood behind。



(O! strong men; with your best

I would strive breast to breast;

I could quiet your herds

With my words; with my words。)



I will bring you; my kine;

Where there's grass to the knee;

But you'll think of scant croppings

Harsh with salt of the sea。



Padraic Colum '1881…





BALLAD OF LOW…LIE…DOWN



John…a…Dreams and Harum…Scarum

Came a…riding into town:

At the Sign o' the Jug…and…Jorum

There they met with Low…lie…down。



Brave in shoes of Romany leather;

Bodice blue and gypsy gown;

And a cap of fur and feather;

In the inn sat Low…lie…down。



Harum…Scarum kissed her lightly;

Smiled into her eyes of brown:

Clasped her waist and held her tightly;

Laughing; 〃Love me; Low…lie…down!〃



Then with many an oath and swagger;

As a man of great renown;

On the board he clapped his dagger;

Called for sack and sat him down。



So a while they laughed together;

Then he rose and with a frown

Sighed; 〃While still 'tis pheasant weather;

I must leave thee; Low…lie…down。〃



So away rode Harum…Scarum;

With a song rode out of town;

At the Sign o' the Jug…and…Jorum

Weeping tarried Low…lie…down。



Then this John…a…dreams; in tatters;

In his pocket ne'er a crown;

Touched her; saying; 〃Wench; what matters!

Dry your eyes and; come; sit down。



〃Here's my hand: we'll roam together;

Far away from thorp and town。

Here's my heart; … for any weather; …

And my dreams; too; Low…lie…down。



〃Some men call me dreamer; poet:

Some men call me fool and clown …

What I am but you shall know it;

Only you; sweet Low…lie…down。〃



For a little while she pondered:

Smiled: then said; 〃Let care go drown!〃

Up and kissed him。 。 。 。 Forth they wandered;

John…a…dreams and Low…lie…down。



Madison Cawein '1865…1914'





THE GOOD INN

From 〃The Inn of the Silver Moon。〃



What care if the day

Be turned to gray;

What care if the night come soon!

We may choose the pace

Who bow for grace

At the Inn of the Silver Moon。



Ah; hurrying Sirs;

Drive deep your spurs;

For it's far to the steepled town …

Where the wallet's weight

Shall fix your state

And buy for ye smile or frown。

Through our tiles of green

Do the stars between

Laugh down from the skies of June;

And there's naught to pay

For a couch of hay

At the Inn of the Silver Moon。



You laboring lout;

Pull out; pull out;

With a hand to the creaking tire;

For it's many a mile

By path and stile

To the old wife crouched by the fire。

But the door is wide

In the hedgerow side;

And we ask not bowl nor spoon

Whose draught of must

Makes soft the crust

At the Inn of the Silver Moon。



Then; here's to the Inn

Of the empty bin;

To the Host of the trackless dune!

And here's to the friend

Of the journey's end

At the Inn of the Silver Moon。



Herman Knickerbocker Viele '1856…1908'





NIGHT FOR ADVENTURES



Sometimes when fragrant summer dusk comes in with scent of rose and musk

And scatters from their sable husk the stars like yellow grain;

Oh; then the ancient longing comes that lures me like a roll of drums

To follow where the cricket strums his banjo in the lane。



And when the August moon comes up and like a shallow; silver cup

Pours out upon the fields and roads her amber…colored beams;

A leafy whisper mounts and calls from out the forest's moss grown halls

To leave the city's somber walls and take the road of dreams。



A call that bids me rise and strip; and; naked all from toe to lip;

To wander where the dewdrops drip from off the silent trees;

And where the hairy spiders spin their nets of silver; fragile…thin;

And out to where the fields begin; like down upon the breeze。



Into a silver pool to plunge; and like a great trout wheel and lunge

Among the lily…bonnets and the stars reflected there;

With face upturned to lie afloat; with moonbeams rippling round my throat;

And from the slimy grasses plait a chaplet for my hair。



Then; leaping from my rustic bath; to take some winding meadow…path:

Across the fields of aftermath to run with flying feet;

And feel the dewdrop…weighted grass that bends beneath me as I pass;

Where solemn trees in shadowy mass beyond the highway meet。



And; plunging deep within the woods; among the leaf…hung solitudes

Where scarce one timid star intrudes into the breathless gloom;

Go leaping down some fern…hid way to scare the rabbits in their play;

And see the owl; a fantom gray; drift by on silent plume。



To fling me down at length and rest upon some damp and mossy nest;

And hear the choir of surpliced frogs strike up a bubbling tune;

And watch; above the dreaming trees; Orion and the Hyades

And all the stars; like golden bees; around the lily…moon。



Then who can say if I have gone a…gipsying from dusk till dawn

In company with fay and faun; where firefly…lanterns gleam?

And have I danced on cobwebs thin to Master Locust's mandolin …

Or I have spent the night in bed; and was it all a dream?



Victor Starbuck '1887…





SONG

From 〃The Way Of Perfect Love〃



Something calls and whispers; along the city street;

Through shrill cries of children and soft stir of feet;

And makes my blood to quicken and makes my flesh to pine。

The mountains are calling; the winds wake the pine。



Past the quivering poplars that tell of water near

The long road is sleeping; the white road is clear。

Yet scent and touch can summon; afar from brook and tree;

The deep boom of surges; the gray waste of sea。



Sweet to dream and linger; in windless orchard close;

On bright brows of ladies to garland the rose;

But all the time are glowing; beyond this little world;

The still light of planets and the star…swarms whirled。



Georgiana Goddard King '1871…





THE VOORTREKKER



The gull shall whistle in his wake; the blind wave break in fire;

He shall fulfill God's utmost will unknowing His desire;

And he shall see old planets pass and alien stars arise;

And give the gale his seaworn sail in shadow of new skies。

Strong lust of gear shall drive him forth and hunger arm his hand

To win his food from the desert rude; his foothold from the sand。

His neighbors' smoke shall vex his eyes; their voices break his rest;

He shall go forth till South is North; sullen and dispossessed。

He shall desire loneliness; and his desire shall bring

Hard on his heels a thousand wheels; a People; and a King;

He shall come back in his own track; and by his scarce cooled camp;

There shall he meet the roaring street; the derrick; and the stamp;

There he shall blaze a nation's ways with hatchet and with brand;

Till on his last…won wilderness an Empire's outposts stand!



Rudyard Kipling '1865…1936'





THE LONG TRAIL


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