ARBOR DA Y MANUAL. 
*3 
Till heart and brain were faint and sore, 
And sought with eager thirst once more 
To bathe my spirit in the shade 
Of those beloved woods, which made 
Forever more my childhood seem 
A glory, an unending dream. 
I scarce could keep my longing feet 
From racing, boy-like, to compete 
With all my hurrying soul, which ran 
So like a child, adown the hill, 
Ahead of the slow-pacing man, 
To where the path across the rill 
Turned sharp and left you in the wood. 
And there with beating heart I stood 
But lo ! my woods, beloved woods, were gone. 
Not one of all their hosts, not one, 
Remained. As flies upon the wind 
The autumn leaves, no trace behind 
Of all their fiery pomp, so fled 
My mighty woods before the years. 
I stood as one above the dead, 
Stricken with loss, in uncontrolled tears. 
The wide, unsympathetic sky 
Looked down with blurred and sultry eye. 
And where my childhood’s feet had strayed 
O’er moss and gnarled root and shade, 
All wrought with shifting green and gold, 
More rare than lace on armor old ; 
Where stood the solemn ranks of trees; 
Where rolled such organ harmonies 
As ne’er were heard in minster pile ; 
Where mysteries haunted crypt and aisle; 
Where harping spirits of the air 
Were here and there and everywhere; 
Behold, there flowed a field of wheat. 
Rustling and yellowing in the heat. 
Beyond the knoll where feed the sheep, 
The farmers’ plain white gables peep, 
New sheaves a lumbering wagon brings, 
The driver flips his whip and sings. 
With heavy heart I slowly turned ; 
The golden wheat that flared and burned 
Beneath the sun, how small, how cheap ! 
Come quickly, sickle, quickly reap ! 
Come rough, strong bands and quickly bind! 
