 | [Poems by Whittier in] A Study of Whittier's Apprenticeship as a Poet |  |
187
RURAL EXCURSIONS
[_]
(Suggested by an item in the Boston Statesman warning people against rural wanderings because of poison ivy etc.)
Yes! doubtless 'tis very amusing
To wander at dawn of day,
And search the meadows, and tread the hills,
As the grey mist rolls away.
'Tis pleasant—'tis sentimental,
To watch the glad streams run;
And see how the forest tops receive
The kiss of the rising sun.
To wander at dawn of day,
And search the meadows, and tread the hills,
As the grey mist rolls away.
'Tis pleasant—'tis sentimental,
To watch the glad streams run;
And see how the forest tops receive
The kiss of the rising sun.
But ah! 'tis a dangerous business—
This strolling in quest of flowers;
For poison twines with the sweetest shrubs,
And lurks in the greenest bowers.
You may pluck the modest wildflower
Where the dark-green ivy grows;
You may stop to sever the violet's stem
And the dogwood brush your nose.
This strolling in quest of flowers;
For poison twines with the sweetest shrubs,
And lurks in the greenest bowers.
You may pluck the modest wildflower
Where the dark-green ivy grows;
You may stop to sever the violet's stem
And the dogwood brush your nose.
With your hands the size of a farmer's,
And the color of dingy brass;
And your eyes just open enough to see
Your delicate phiz in the glass;
Your cheeks puffed out like bladders,
And your nose provokingly red—
You'll hate the “rural excursion,”
Drink saffron, and go to bed.
And the color of dingy brass;
And your eyes just open enough to see
Your delicate phiz in the glass;
Your cheeks puffed out like bladders,
And your nose provokingly red—
You'll hate the “rural excursion,”
Drink saffron, and go to bed.
Oh horrible!—horrible—horrible!
Fair florists, stick to your home,
As you would avoid the saffron tea
And the bath of New England rum—
I know it all by experience,
And I warn ye, florists fair!
If ye have a mind for strolling,
Again I say, “Beware.”
Fair florists, stick to your home,
As you would avoid the saffron tea
And the bath of New England rum—
I know it all by experience,
And I warn ye, florists fair!
If ye have a mind for strolling,
Again I say, “Beware.”
Haverhill Gazette, June 7, 1828
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