 | Sketches of Natural History |  |
47
THE WATER-RAT.
Come into the meadows, this bright summer day;
The people are merrily making the hay:
There's a blithe sound of pastoral life every where;
And the gay Lark is carolling up in the air.
And I know in the wood where the Columbine grows,
And the climbing Clematis and Pink Apple-rose;
And I know where the Buglos grows blue as the sky,
And the deep crimson Vetch like a wild Vine runs high.
And I'll shew you a sight you love better than these,
A little field-stream overshadowed with trees,
Where the water is clear as a free mountain-rill,
And now it runs rippling, and now it is still;
Where the crowned Butomus is gracefully growing,
Where the long purple spikes of the Loose-strife are blowing,
And the rich, plumy crests of the Meadow-sweet seem
Like foam which the current has left on the stream;
There I'll shew you the brown Water-Rat at his play—
You will see nothing blither this blithe summer day;
A glad, innocent creature, for whom was ordained
The quiet of brooks, and the plants they contained.
But, hush! step as lightly as leaves in their fall;
Man has wronged him, and he is in fear of us all.
See! there he is sitting, the tree-roots among,
And the Reed-sparrow by him is singing his song.
See how gravely he sits; how demure and how still,
Like an anchorite old at his mossy door-sill!
Ah no, now his mood of sedateness is gone,
And his harlequin motions he'll shew us anon.
Look! look now! how quickly the water he cleaves,
And again he is up 'mong those arrow-head leaves;
See his little black head, and his eyes sparkling shine,
He has made up his mind on these dainties to dine,
For he has not a want which he cannot supply
In a water like this, with these water-plants nigh;
And he asketh no bounty from man; he can find
A plentiful table spread out to his mind;
For this little field-stream hath all good that he needs,
In the budding tree-roots and the clustering reeds,
And the snowy-flowered arrow-head thick growing here:
Ah, pity it is man has taught him to fear!
But look at him now, how he sitteth afloat
On the broad Water-lily leaf, as in a boat.
See the antics he plays! how he dives in the stream,
To and fro—now he chases that dancing sun-beam;
Now he stands for a moment as if half perplexed,
In his frolicsome heart to know what to do next.
Ha! see now, that Dragon-fly sets him astir,
And he launches away like a brave mariner;
See there, up the stream how he merrily rows,
And the tall fragrant Calamus bows as he goes!
And now he is lost at the foot of the tree;
'Tis his home, and a snug little home it must be!
The people are merrily making the hay:
There's a blithe sound of pastoral life every where;
And the gay Lark is carolling up in the air.
And I know in the wood where the Columbine grows,
And the climbing Clematis and Pink Apple-rose;
And I know where the Buglos grows blue as the sky,
And the deep crimson Vetch like a wild Vine runs high.
48
A little field-stream overshadowed with trees,
Where the water is clear as a free mountain-rill,
And now it runs rippling, and now it is still;
Where the crowned Butomus is gracefully growing,
Where the long purple spikes of the Loose-strife are blowing,
And the rich, plumy crests of the Meadow-sweet seem
Like foam which the current has left on the stream;
There I'll shew you the brown Water-Rat at his play—
You will see nothing blither this blithe summer day;
49
The quiet of brooks, and the plants they contained.
But, hush! step as lightly as leaves in their fall;
Man has wronged him, and he is in fear of us all.
See! there he is sitting, the tree-roots among,
And the Reed-sparrow by him is singing his song.
See how gravely he sits; how demure and how still,
Like an anchorite old at his mossy door-sill!
Ah no, now his mood of sedateness is gone,
And his harlequin motions he'll shew us anon.
50
And again he is up 'mong those arrow-head leaves;
See his little black head, and his eyes sparkling shine,
He has made up his mind on these dainties to dine,
For he has not a want which he cannot supply
In a water like this, with these water-plants nigh;
And he asketh no bounty from man; he can find
A plentiful table spread out to his mind;
For this little field-stream hath all good that he needs,
In the budding tree-roots and the clustering reeds,
51
Ah, pity it is man has taught him to fear!
But look at him now, how he sitteth afloat
On the broad Water-lily leaf, as in a boat.
See the antics he plays! how he dives in the stream,
To and fro—now he chases that dancing sun-beam;
Now he stands for a moment as if half perplexed,
In his frolicsome heart to know what to do next.
Ha! see now, that Dragon-fly sets him astir,
And he launches away like a brave mariner;
See there, up the stream how he merrily rows,
And the tall fragrant Calamus bows as he goes!
52
'Tis his home, and a snug little home it must be!
And 'tis thus that the Water-Rat liveth all day,
In these small pleasures wearing the summer away;
And when cold winter comes, and the water-plants die,
And his little brooks yield him no longer supply,
Down into his burrow he cozily creeps,
And quietly through the long winter-time sleeps.
Thus in summer his table by Nature is spread,
And old mother Earth makes in winter his bed.
In these small pleasures wearing the summer away;
And when cold winter comes, and the water-plants die,
And his little brooks yield him no longer supply,
Down into his burrow he cozily creeps,
And quietly through the long winter-time sleeps.
Thus in summer his table by Nature is spread,
And old mother Earth makes in winter his bed.
| Sketches of Natural History | |