H. D. Thoreau. 



There as the wavelets swell 



At break of day, 

 A message strange they tell 



Idly at play — 



Burthen so free and far, 



So deep and wide, 

 Lisped to the truant star 



Caught by the tide — 



Message of Spring and Youth, 



Decay and Death ; 

 Echoes of secret truth 



That the gay south wind saith 



Under its breath. 



And e'en the birches slight 



Along the shore, 

 That from the waters bright 



Their secrets store, 



Speak their young modest mind 



With whispers soft, 

 That an eavesdropping wind 



Carries aloft 



Unto me oft — 



Bids me to list the song, 



Sung low and faint 

 By winds that sigh along 



Sad in complaint ; 



Plaint of a sorrow rare 



In whispered tone ; 

 Murmurs and sighings their 



Meaning unknown ; 

 Babbled by leaves and air 



And brooklets lone. 



H. K. S. 



