Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life Connecticut River reeds blown by the "Peasant Bard" |
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EPISTLE TO HUGH AINSLIE.
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 | Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life |  |
EPISTLE TO HUGH AINSLIE.
A SCOTCH POET.
Dear FRIEND: Surprise you'll doubtless feel,
When this you get, and break the seal;
But one who wishes for your weal
Subscribes the writing;
The Muses, fiddling a Scotch reel,
Do the inditing.
When this you get, and break the seal;
But one who wishes for your weal
Subscribes the writing;
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Do the inditing.
'T is sympathy that prompts my line:
I never saw your face, and mine
You never saw; but I opine,
That's matter small:
The children of “the tuneful Nine”
Are brothers all.
I never saw your face, and mine
You never saw; but I opine,
That's matter small:
The children of “the tuneful Nine”
Are brothers all.
The flowery, green Parnassian way,
What crowds bedust it in our day!
Faith! they've laid rails, and engines play
Te Deums on it,
And “ticket through” all who can pay
A third-rate sonnet.
What crowds bedust it in our day!
Faith! they've laid rails, and engines play
Te Deums on it,
And “ticket through” all who can pay
A third-rate sonnet.
For one, all independent grown,
I'll have Parnassus of my own!
Old Holyoke, or Ascutney's cone,
As classic should be,
Or grand Monadnock's regal throne:—
Ye gods! they could be!
I'll have Parnassus of my own!
Old Holyoke, or Ascutney's cone,
As classic should be,
Or grand Monadnock's regal throne:—
Ye gods! they could be!
How few who try the rural song
Strike notes that to the fields belong!
But lack some truthful feature strong:
As painters clever
Oft put the milkmaid on the wrong
Side of the heifer.
Strike notes that to the fields belong!
But lack some truthful feature strong:
As painters clever
Oft put the milkmaid on the wrong
Side of the heifer.
The fact is, he who doesn't know
The prose, the poetry can't show,
Of rural life, and make it glow
With life-blood warm:
Whoe'er that saw the beauteous bow,
Saw not the storm?
The prose, the poetry can't show,
Of rural life, and make it glow
With life-blood warm:
Whoe'er that saw the beauteous bow,
Saw not the storm?
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“May Washing!”
—I would rather own
As mine that simple gem alone,
Than half the stilted poems thrown,
With flourish grand,
From the great press, and puffed and blown
About the land.
As mine that simple gem alone,
Than half the stilted poems thrown,
With flourish grand,
From the great press, and puffed and blown
About the land.
Whate'er may be your fortune's grade,
I'd take it, were the wager laid,
That you have seen both light and shade
Of Scottish life,
And weary has your heart been made
By worldly strife.
I'd take it, were the wager laid,
That you have seen both light and shade
Of Scottish life,
And weary has your heart been made
By worldly strife.
O brother bard! canst thou explain
Why Sorrow wakes the sweetest strain?
Just as we hear the dear refrain
That robins sing,
While showers down the drenching rain
In time of spring.
Why Sorrow wakes the sweetest strain?
Just as we hear the dear refrain
That robins sing,
While showers down the drenching rain
In time of spring.
Blaw sweetly Scotia's pipes, my brither!
I luve her; she's my great grand-mither,
Sae there's a sort o' kindred tether
Hauds me to thee;
But mair thy sang, for sic anither
We rarely see.
I luve her; she's my great grand-mither,
Sae there's a sort o' kindred tether
Hauds me to thee;
But mair thy sang, for sic anither
We rarely see.
Fame's eye may never yet have seen us;
Fate from the world's applause may screen us;
But shall these things suffice to wean us
From song? No! never!
The heirs of true poetic genius
Hold fast for ever!
Fate from the world's applause may screen us;
But shall these things suffice to wean us
From song? No! never!
The heirs of true poetic genius
Hold fast for ever!
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Adieu, O bard of Nature's making!
Some day thy hand I may be taking:
Don't know: fain would—but Care is shaking
Full fast life's sand;
But I've a notion we'll be waking
In the leal land.
Some day thy hand I may be taking:
Don't know: fain would—but Care is shaking
Full fast life's sand;
But I've a notion we'll be waking
In the leal land.
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