Deemed it the world and never looked beyond.
So, haply meeting in the afternoon

Some comrades who were playing at the dice,
He joined them and forgot all else beside.
The dice were rattling at the merriest,
And Rhocus, who had met but sorry luck,
Just laughed in triumph at a happy throw,
When through the room there hummed a yellow bee
That buzzed about his ear with down-dropped legs
As if to light. And Rhocus laughed and said,
Feeling how red and flushed he was with loss,
"By Venus! does he take me for a rose?"
And brushed him off with rough, impatient hand.
But still the bee came back, and thrice again
Rhœcus did beat him off with growing wrath.
Then through the window flew the wounded bee;
And Rhocus, tracking him with angry eyes,
Saw a sharp mountain-peak of Thessaly
Against the red disc of the setting sun,-
And instantly the blood sank from his heart,
As if its very walls had caved away.

Without a word he turned, and, rushing forth,

Ran madly through the city and the gate,

And o'er the plain, which now the wood's long shade,
By the low sun thrown forward broad and dim,
Darkened well-nigh unto the city's wall.

I 20

Quite spent and out of breath, he reached the tree,
And, listening fearfully, he heard once more
The low voice murmur "Rhoecus!" close at hand;
Whereat he looked around him, but could see
Nought but the deepening glooms beneath the oak.
Then sighed, the voice, "Oh Rhocus, nevermore
Shalt thou behold me or by day or night!

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Me, who would fain have blessed thee with a love
More ripe and bounteous than ever yet

Filled up with nectar any mortal heart:

But thou didst scorn my humble messenger,

And sent'st him back to me with bruised wings.

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We spirits only show to gentle eyes;

We ever ask an undivided love;

And he who scorns the least of Nature's works

Is thenceforth exiled and shut out from all.
Farewell! for thou canst never see me more.'

Then Rhocus beat his breast, and groaned aloud,
And cried, "Be pitiful! forgive me yet

This once, and I shall never need it more!"

"Alas!" the voice returned, "'t is thou art blind,

Not I unmerciful: I can forgive,

But have no skill to heal thy spirit's eyes;

Only the soul hath power o'er itself."

With that again there murmured "Nevermore!"
And Rhocus after heard no other sound,
Except the rattling of the oak's crisp leaves,

Like the long surf upon a distant shore

Raking the sea-worn pebbles up and down.

The night had gathered round him: o'er the plain

The city sparkled with its thousand lights,

And sounds of revel fell upon his ear

Harshly and like a curse; above, the sky,

With all its bright sublimity of stars,

Deepened, and on his forehead smote the breeze.
Beauty was all around him, and delight;

But from that eve he was alone on earth.

TO THE DANDELION

Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way,

Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold,

First pledge of blithesome May,

Which children pluck, and, full of pride, uphold,

High-hearted buccaneers, o'erjoyed that they

An Eldorado in the grass have found,
Which not the rich earth's ample round

May match in wealth, thou art more dear to me
Than all the prouder summer-blooms may be.

Gold such as thine ne'er drew the Spanish prow
Through the primeval hush of Indian seas,

IO

Nor wrinkled the lean brow

Of age, to rob the lover's heart of ease:

'T is the spring's largess, which she scatters now

To rich and poor alike, with lavish hand,
Though most hearts never understand

To take it at God's value, but pass by
The offered wealth with unrewarded eye.

Thou art my tropics and mine Italy;
To look at thee unlocks a warmer clime;
The eyes thou givest me

Are in the heart, and heed not space or time:
Not in mid June the golden-cuirassed bee
Feels a more summer-like warm ravishment
In the white lily's breezy tent,

His fragrant Sybaris, than I when first
From the dark green thy yellow circles burst.

Then think I of deep shadows on the grass; Of meadows where in the sun the cattle graze,

Where, as the breezes pass,

The gleaming rushes lean a thousand ways;
Of leaves that slumber in a cloudy mass,

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Or whiten in the wind; of waters blue

That from the distance sparkle through

Some woodland gap; and of a sky above,

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Where one white cloud like a stray lamb doth move.

When birds and flowers and I were happy peers.

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Of heaven, and could some wondrous secret show

Did we but pay the love we owe,

And with a child's undoubting wisdom look

On all these living pages of God's book.

1845.

FROM

THE BIGLOW PAPERS

NO. I

Thrash away! you 'll her to rattle
On them kittle-drums o' yourn-
"T aint a knowin' kind o' cattle

Thet is ketched with mouldy corn.
Put in stiff, you fifer feller,

Let folks see how spry you be
Guess you'll toot till you are yeller
'Fore you git ahold o' me.

Thet air flag 's a leetle rotten;

Hope it aint your Sunday's best.
Fact! it takes a sight o' cotton
To stuff out a soger's chest:
Sence we farmers hev to pay fer 't,

Ef you must wear humps like these
Sposin' you should try salt hay fer 't-
It would du ez slick ez grease.

'T-wouldn't suit them Southun fellers;

They 're a dreffle graspin' set:

We must ollers blow the bellers

Wen they want their irons het.
May be it's all right ez preachin',
But my narves it kind o' grates
Wen I see the overreachin'

O' them nigger-drivin' States.

Them thet rule us, them slave-traders,

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Haint they cut a thunderin' swarth

(Helped by Yankee renegaders)

Thru the vartu o' the North!