 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
278
THE CROW.
“Light thickens,
And the crow makes wing to the rooky wood.”
And the crow makes wing to the rooky wood.”
Their icy drums the polar spirits beat,
And dark December with a howl awakes;
But on I wander, while beneath my feet
The brittle snow-crust breaks.
And dark December with a howl awakes;
But on I wander, while beneath my feet
The brittle snow-crust breaks.
The fleecy flock to find one juicy blade
Scrape, with their lifted hoofs, the snow away;
Ended the long, loud bleat of joy that made
So blithe the meads of May.
Scrape, with their lifted hoofs, the snow away;
Ended the long, loud bleat of joy that made
So blithe the meads of May.
With wildly mournful bellowings around
Yon fence-girt stack the hungry cattle crowd;
For the drear skies on their old pasture-ground
Have dropped a heavy shroud.
Yon fence-girt stack the hungry cattle crowd;
For the drear skies on their old pasture-ground
Have dropped a heavy shroud.
Housed in some hollow beech the squirrel lies,
Scared by the whistling winds that scourge the wold;
The hardy fox is not a-foot, too wise
To brave the bitter cold.
Scared by the whistling winds that scourge the wold;
The hardy fox is not a-foot, too wise
To brave the bitter cold.
Far in the gloomy cedar-swamp to-day
The ruffed grouse finds a shelter from the storm,
And, fearless grown, the quail-flock wend their way
To barns for cover warm.
The ruffed grouse finds a shelter from the storm,
And, fearless grown, the quail-flock wend their way
To barns for cover warm.
One bird alone, the melancholy crow
Answers the challenge of the surly north;
The forest-tops are swinging to and fro,
But boldly goes he forth.
Answers the challenge of the surly north;
The forest-tops are swinging to and fro,
But boldly goes he forth.
279
His pinions flapping like a banner-sheet,
While high he mounts above the forest tall,
Shake from their iron quills the pelting sleet
With measured rise and fall.
While high he mounts above the forest tall,
Shake from their iron quills the pelting sleet
With measured rise and fall.
The sinning Court of Bards an evil name
On the poor creature long ago conferred;
It was a lying judgment, and I claim
Reversal for the bird.
On the poor creature long ago conferred;
It was a lying judgment, and I claim
Reversal for the bird.
I know that with a hoarse, insulting croak,
When planting time arrives and winds are warm,
On the dry antlers of some withered oak
He perches safe from harm.
When planting time arrives and winds are warm,
On the dry antlers of some withered oak
He perches safe from harm.
I know that he disturbs the buried maize,
And infant blades upspringing on the hills;
That man a snare to catch the robber lays,
While wrath his bosom fills.
And infant blades upspringing on the hills;
That man a snare to catch the robber lays,
While wrath his bosom fills.
But is he not of service to our race,
Performing his allotted labor well?
Although a bounty on his head we place—
The rifle-crack his knell.
Performing his allotted labor well?
Although a bounty on his head we place—
The rifle-crack his knell.
Warned is the reaper of foul weather nigh,
When the prophetic creature, in its flight,
With a changed note in its discordant cry,
Moves like a gliding kite.
When the prophetic creature, in its flight,
With a changed note in its discordant cry,
Moves like a gliding kite.
While louder grows that wild, presageful call,
Sheaves are piled high upon the harvest wain,
And the stack neatly rounded ere the fall
Of hail, and driving rain.
Sheaves are piled high upon the harvest wain,
And the stack neatly rounded ere the fall
Of hail, and driving rain.
Be just, then, farmer, and the grudge forget,
Nursed in thy bosom long against the bird;
Thy crop would have been ruined by the wet
Had not that voice been heard.
Nursed in thy bosom long against the bird;
Thy crop would have been ruined by the wet
Had not that voice been heard.
280
Health-officer of nature, he will speed,
Croaking a signal to his sable band,
And dine on loathsome offals, ere they breed
Contagion in the land.
Croaking a signal to his sable band,
And dine on loathsome offals, ere they breed
Contagion in the land.
When the round nest his dusk mate deftly weaves,
He sits, a warrior in his leafy tent;
And the fierce hawk prompt punishment receives
If near, on mischief bent:—
He sits, a warrior in his leafy tent;
And the fierce hawk prompt punishment receives
If near, on mischief bent:—
Thus at the door-sill, guarding babes and wife,
The dauntless settler met his painted foe;
Love giving, in a dark, unequal strife,
Destruction to his blow.
The dauntless settler met his painted foe;
Love giving, in a dark, unequal strife,
Destruction to his blow.
He is no summer coxcomb of the air,
Forsaking ancient friends in evil hour,
To find a home where Heaven is ever fair,
And the glad Earth in flower.
Forsaking ancient friends in evil hour,
To find a home where Heaven is ever fair,
And the glad Earth in flower.
Though man and boy a warfare with him wage,
He loves the forest where he first waved wing;
Awaiting in its depths, though winter rage,
The bright return of spring.
He loves the forest where he first waved wing;
Awaiting in its depths, though winter rage,
The bright return of spring.
That love is noblest that survives the bloom
Of withered cheeks that once out-blushed the rose;
True to its fading object in the gloom
Of life's dull wintry close:—
Of withered cheeks that once out-blushed the rose;
True to its fading object in the gloom
Of life's dull wintry close:—
And the poor Crow, of that pure love a type,
Quits not the wood in which he burst the shell,
Though fall the leaves, and feathered armies pipe
To the chill North farewell!
Quits not the wood in which he burst the shell,
Though fall the leaves, and feathered armies pipe
To the chill North farewell!
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |