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Nature-notes and impressions in prose and verse

Cawein, Madison Julius (1865-1914)

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[dedication]
 
[Would I could talk as the flowers talk]
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NATURE-NOTES and IMPRESSIONS
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1883–1886
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1887–1890
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1891–1900
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1901–1905
 
[There was an old frog]
 
[So let Noon lead me till at last she reaches]
 
[Above the hills the sunset's rolled]
 
[The bloodroot leaves of middle March]
 
[Croppings out of unmined gold]
 
[Moist, rocky places of the spring]
 
[The hairy stems of the hepatica]
 
[Deep in the leaves' concealing green]
 
[The dewberries are blooming now]
 
[Purple the hills stretch under purple mists]
 
[Hark how the honey-throated thrush]
 
[The ground is strewn with the dead oak-bloom]
 
[That little worm shall become a fly]
 
[Invite my soul to rest awhile]
 
[The smell of tannin in the ozoned air]
 
[The stealthy squirrel skips along]
 
[Yesterday among the beeches, to-day among the oaks]
 
[The wind is rising and the leaves are blown]
 
[The dawn comes in clad all in hodden gray]
 
[Hylas, that pipe the little buds awake]
 
[Still are the forests barren of all buds]
 
[Come, let us forth and homage her]
 
[My mind's washed clean by the wind that brings]
 
[The wind goes groping among the trees]
 
[The sluggish snake now basks his uncoiled length]
 
[Rocked by the winds of March the trees become]
 
[The gold-green blooms of the spicebush burn]
 
[Placid and pure and clean the wild-phlox blooms]
 
[Who is it knows]
 
[The liquid note of the thrush—what words can describe it]
 
[The woodpecker! hear him, the redcapped]
 
[The crawfish in his tower of ooze and clay]
 
[Hag-tapers bow their heads i' the wind]
 
[Here where the twilight-colored trunks of trees]
 
[Silvered with sun and rain the hills and vales]
 
[The old tree, on which the man was hanged, sighed to itself]
 
[Where like an angry tyrant roars the sea]
 
[What boots it to keep saying]
 
[Until we meet again]
 
[Where bloomed the rose but yesterday]
 
[The climbing cricket clings]
 
[My soul is sick of many things]
 
[Ah, not in vain]
 
[A thin fall rain]
 
[Ephemeral gold]
 
[The scarlet and the gold and bronze]
 
[Ochre-colored broom-sedge]
 
[In the forest by the rain-wild creeks]
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[Rocked by the winds of March the trees become]

Rocked by the winds of March the trees become,
Each one a maddened pendulum
Swayed every way as if in time
To some wild music, roaring rhyme
Shouted from storm-tossed hill to hill,
Amid the forests that are never still.
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