Press enter after choosing selection

The Pewee

The Pewee image
Parent Issue
Public Domain
OCR Text

The listening Dryads hushed the woods ; The boughs were thick, and thin and few The golden ribbons fluttering through; Their sun-embroidered, leafy hoods Tho linden lif ted to the blue : Only a little forest brook The f arthest hem of silenoe shook : When in the hollow shades I heard - Was it a spirit, or a bird? Or strayed f rom Eden, desolate, Some Peri calling to her mate, Whom nevermore her mate would checr ! "Pe-ri! Pe-ri! Peer!" To trace it in its green retreat I soaght among the boughs in yain, And followed still the wandering strain, So melancholy and so sweet The dim-eyed violeta yearned with pain. 'Twas now a Borrow in the air, Soiae nymph's immortalized despair Haunting the woods and waterf alia ; Aud now at long, sad intervals, Sitting unseen in dusky shade, His plaintive pipe some fairy played, With long-drawn cadenee, thin and olear. - "Pe-wee! Pe-wee! Peer!" quit the search and sat me down Beeide the brook, irresolute, And watched a little bird in suit Of sober olive, soft and brown, Perohed in the maple branches mute: With greenish gold its vest was fringed, lts tiny cap was ebon-tinged, With ivory palé its wings were barred And its dark eyes were tender-starred. "Dear bird," I said, "what is thy name?" And thrice the mournful answer ome, 80 faint and far and yet so near, "Pe-wee! Pe-wee! Peer!" Hast thou, too, in thy little breast, Strange longings for a happier lot, For love, for life, thou know'st not what, A yearning and a vague unrest, For something still which thou hast not? Thou soul of some benighted child That perished, crying in the wild! Or lost, forlorn. and wandering maid, By love allured, by love betrayed, Whose spirit with her latest sigh Aróse, a little winged cry, Above her chili and moesy bier! "Dear me! dear me! dear!" Ah, no such piercing sorrow mars The pewee'B life of cheerful ease! He sings or leaves his song to seize An insect sporting in the bars Of mild, bright light that gilds the trees. A very poet he! . For him All pleasant places still and dim : His heart, a spark of heavenly fire, Burns with undying, sweet desire : And so he sings ; and so his song, Though heard not by the hurrying throng, is solace to the pensive ear : "Pewee! pewee! Deer!"


Old News
Michigan Argus