Hermit Thrush Brook A Nature-Study Rubaiyat 



William Prinu 



I 

 On Eastern upland with vernal green, 



Our brook is bom, amid a peaceful scene 

 And its bright waters noiseless greet the day 

 To dream awhile in loveliness serene. 



II 

 New flecked with verdure, ranks of Alder stand 

 Along the marsh, in sweeping beauty planned, 

 Wherein our brooklet laves the mangold 

 That stands reflected in a fairyland. 



Ill 

 Above the marsh a thousand tongues are stirred 

 In chorus, and soft melody is heard 

 Among the alders, varied, rich and strong, 

 As ever issued from the throat of bird. 



IV 

 The while our brook in dancing allegro 

 A lusty stripling, narrow in its flow 

 Leaves marsh and bird, and marigold behind 

 And cares not how, or whither it may go. 



Swirling a song of wanderlust and joy 

 Its merry rills through mead and wood deploy 

 Kissing the lush reed, and the fragrant mint 

 In passing, glad as butterfly or boy. 



VI 

 And now it enters with auspicious sweep 

 Witch-hazel wood, arousing from the sleep 

 Of winter, and its banks with emerald moss 

 Are decked like prayer-rugs, soft and ankle-deep. 



VII 

 There in the wood hepaticas abound 

 Sweet woodland sylphs, in lovely garments gowned, 

 With many another elf of early Spring, 

 That sway in gladness to the waters sound. 



VIII 

 Out! On! Beyond! Through meadows rolling wide, 

 In gentle swiftness, into realms uir 

 Feeling the lure of the great lake afar 

 Into whose bosom soon our brook will glide. 



