Miscellaneous. 367 



HOW DOES IT SEEM TO YOU? 



It seems to me I'd like to go 



Where bells don't ring, nor whistles blow. 



Nor clocks don't strike nor gongs don't sound. 



And I'd have stillness all around— 

 Not real still stillness, but just the trees' 

 Low whisperings, or the hum of bees, 



Or brooks' faint babbling over stones 



In strangely, softly tangled tones. 

 Or maybe a cricket or katydid. 

 Or the songs of birds in the hedges hid, 



Or just some sweet sounds as these 



To All a tired heart with ease. 

 If tweren't for sight and sound and smell 

 I'd like a city pretty well; 



But when it comes to getting rest, 



I like the country lots the best. 

 Sometimes it seems to me I must 

 Just quit the city's din and dust. 



And get out where the sky is blue — 



And, say— how does it seem to you? 



-Eugene Field. 



REED NOTES. 



(By Madison Oawein.) 



What bird is that that sings so long? 



To hear whose song 

 Each bashful bud opens its rosy ear. 



Leaning it near: 



, While here. 

 Under the blossoming button-tree, 



I seem to see 

 A shape, a presence lookout at me; 

 And, clothed in raiment of white and gray. 

 Pass on lUce the Splrls of Easter Day. 



II. 



Deep in the leaves' concealing green 



A wood -thrush flutes. 

 The first thrush seen 



Or heard this spring; and straight, me seems. 

 Its notes take on the attributes 

 Of mythic fancies and of dreams — 

 A Faun goes piping oe'r the roots 

 And mosses; gliding through dim gleams 

 And glcoms; and while he glides he flutes. 



Though still unseen, 

 'Mid thorny berry and wild bean. 



