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WILD SCENES AND SONG-BIEDS, 
And if green and sunsliine make tlie earth, fair, 
Food for his spite he will find. 
But 0 ! it's a hideons sort of spleen, 
And a very hard cold hate. 
That could come where joyous summer had been 
Just to leave all desolate ! 
VI. 
The rolling river, 
We loved to see 
In sunbeams quiver, — 
Darkened left he 
Green forests, waving 
Like the deep sea, 
Vexed to upheaving — 
All, bare, left he 
The flame-winged bird 
That lit the tree, 
Where its song was heard, — 
Banished had he ! 
The floweret's eye 
That smiled sweetly 
Where the dead leaves lie 
Frozen had he. 
Fled darkened and bare and frozen were they, 
The timid and bright things dare not to stay ; 
A cruel old tyrant to revel thus, 
In murdering beauty, in howling and fuss ! 
Though mournful this be, it is far sadder still 
When in the track of his merciless will 
Human hearts bowed — they the warm and the brave 
The best loved and frailest his stern hours gave 
Coldly to Death. 0 it is hard thus to slay 
These gentle ones when their loved summer's away — 
