PART I.
SUMMER ON THE LAKES.
Summer days of busy leisure, Long summer days of dear-bought pleasure, You have done your teaching well; Had the scholar means to tell How grew the vine of bitter-sweet, What made the path for truant feet, Winter nights would quickly pass, Gazing on the magic glass O'er which the new-world shadows pass.
But, in fault of wizard spell, Moderns their tale can only tell In dull words, with a poor reed Breaking at each time of need.
Yet those to whom a hint suffices Mottoes find for all devices, See the knights behind their shields, Through dried grasses, blooming fields.
* * * * * Some dried grass-tufts from the wide flowery field, A muscle-shell from the lone fairy shore, Some antlers from tall woods which never more To the wild deer a safe retreat can yield, An eagle's feather which adorned a Brave, Well-nigh the last of his despairing band,-- For such slight gifts wilt thou extend thy hand When weary hours a brief refreshment crave?
I give you what I can, not what I would If my small drinking-cup would hold a flood, As Scandinavia sung those must contain With which, the giants gods may entertain; In our dwarf day we drain few drops, and soon must thirst again..