large/11091/among_the_trees_again_1609_librivox_64kb_mp3/trees_02_stein_64kb_13
large/11091/among_the_trees_again_1609_librivox_64kb_mp3/trees_02_stein_64kb
English
11091
Where all the ground was paven out of sight, And only from a far off strip of sky My mother Nature strove to speak to me, I could not harken to her voice aright; I knew not why, But ever to mine ears some whispering tree Seemed of the inmost golden soul of her, The best interpreter. WHERE ALL THE GROUND WAS PAVEN OUT OF SIGHT AND ONLY FROM A FAR OFF STRIP OF SKY MY MOTHER NATURE STROVE TO SPEAK TO ME I COULD NOT HEARKEN TO HER VOICE ARIGHT I KNEW NOT WHY BUT EVER TO MY EARS SOME WHISPERING TREE SEEMED OF THE INMOST GOLDEN SOUL OF HER THE BEST INTERPRETER
and through With rollick notes! Good morrow, little birds! Good morrow! morrow!—O, I would I knew Some light-winged language, kindred singing words Wherein to say This day, this day, at last this happy day I come to be a neighbor unto you! Too long, too long, we heard strange footsteps pass, Harsh, strident echoes stricken out of stone; But never softened by green, growing grass, Or mellowed to faint, earthy undertone. And then, O heart, Did we not ofttimes feel ourselves apart, Alone, Wrought to vague discord by some touch unknown? Did we not weary with a nameless grief, In dreaming of tall clover, daisy sown, Or music blown From the wind-harping of some little leaf? It was not that within the city’s core There dwelt no sympathies, nor interests keen, No human ties to temper its fatigues. —’Twas only that we needed something more; Some note rang wrong; A foolish fancy, may be, but still strong, That life sang sweeter snatched between the green Close-lapping verdure of a fret of twigs. RE FAIRLY BRIMMED AND QUIVERING THROUGH AND THROUGH WITH ROLLICK NOTES GOOD MORAL LITTLE BIRDS GOOD MORROW MORROW OH I WOULD I KNEW SOME LIGHT WINGED LANGUAGE KINDRED SINGING WORDS WHEREIN TO SAY THIS DAY THIS DAY AT LAST THIS HAPPY DAY I COME TO BE A NEIGHBOUR UNTO YOU TOO LONG TOO LONG WE HEARD STRANGE FOOTSTEPS PASS HARSH STRIDENT ECHOES STRICKEN OUT OF STONE BUT NEVER SOFTENED BY GREEN GROWING GRASS OR MELLOW TO FAINT EARTHY UNDERTONE AND THEN O HEART DID WE NOT OFTTIMES FEEL OURSELVES APART ALONE WROUGHT TO VAGUE DISCORD BY SOME TOUCH UNKNOWN DID WE NAW WEARY WITH A NAMELESS GRIEF IN DREAMING OF TALL CLOVER DAISY SONG OR MUSIC BLOWN FROM THE WIND HARPING OF SOME LITTLE LEAF IT WAS NOT THAT WITHIN THIS CITY'S CORE THERE DWELT NO SYMPATHIES NOR INTERESTS KEEN NO HUMAN TIES TO TEMPER ITS FATIGUES TWAS ONLY THAT WE NEEDED SOMETHING MORE SOME NOTE RANG WRONG A FOOLISH FANCY MAYBE BUT STILL STRONG THAT LIFE SANK SWEETER SNATCHED BETWEEN THE GREEN CLOSE LAPPING VERDURE OF A FRET OF TWIGS
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