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And pass the prairie-hawk that, poised on high,
Flaps his broad wings, yet moves not-ye have played
Of Texas, and have crisped the limpid brooks
A nobler or a lovelier scene than this?
The following stanzas form part of his poem, entitled, The Battle-field :—
Soon rested those who fought; but thou,
For truths which men receive not now,
Yet nerve thy spirit to the proof,
And blench not at thy chosen lot.
The timid good may stand aloof,
The sage may frown-yet faint thou not.
Nor heed the shaft too surely cast,
The foul and hissing bolt of scorn;
Then follows the oft-cited, magnificent verse,
Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again;
The Hunter of the Prairies is another fine poem :
Ay, this is freedom!-these pure skies
Were never stained with village smoke:
No barriers in the bloomy grass; Wherever breeze of heaven may blow, Or beam of heaven may glance, I pass.
pastures, measureless as air,
"What plant we with this apple tree? Sweets for a hundred flowery springs To load the Maywind's restless wings, When, from the orchard row, he pourt Ito fragrance through our open doors.
A world of blossoms for the bee, Filovers for the sick girl's sebeat room, For the glad infant sprigs of blooms We plant with the apple tree" William Cullen Bryant Roslyn, L. J. July 12th 1875.
The bounung elk, whose antlers tear
The branches, falls before my aim.
From the long stripe of waving sedge;
The brinded catamount, that lies
Even in the act of springing, dies.
Another of Mr. Bryant's most admired productions is his Forest Hymn, commencing:
The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned
And spread the roof above them,—ere he framed
The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood,