Songs out of Doors by Van Dyke, Henry, 1852-1933

E-text prepared by Patricia Peters, Tonya Allen, and Project Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders

SONGS OUT OF DOORS

BY

HENRY VAN DYKE

1923

CONTENTS

I

OF BIRDS AND FLOWERS

The Veery The Song-Sparrow The Maryland Yellow-Throat The Whip-Poor-Will Wings of a Dove The Hermit Thrush Sea-Gulls of Manhattan The Ruby-Crowned Kinglet The Angler's Reveille A November Daisy The Lily of Yorrow

II

OF SKIES AND SEASONS

If All the Skies The After-Echo Dulciora Matins The Parting and the Coming Guest When Tulips Bloom Spring in the North Spring in the South How Spring Comes to Shasta Jim The First Bird o' Spring A Bunch of Trout-Flies A Noon-Song Turn o' the Tide Sierra Madre School Indian Summer Light between the Trees The Fall of the Leaves Three Alpine Sonnets A Snow-Song Roslin and Hawthornden The Heavenly Hills of Holland Flood-Tide of Flowers Salute to the Trees

III

OF THE UNFAILING LIGHT

The Grand Canyon God of the Open Air

IV

WAYFARING PSALMS IN PALESTINE

The Distant Road The Welcome Tent The Great Cities The Friendly Trees The Pathway of Rivers The Glory of Ruins The Tribe of the Helpers The Good Teacher The Camp-Fires of My Friend

I

OF BIRDS AND FLOWERS

THE VEERY

The moonbeams over Arno's vale in silver flood were pouring, When first I heard the nightingale a long-lost love deploring. So passionate, so full of pain, it sounded strange and eerie; I longed to hear a simpler strain,--the woodnotes of the veery.

The laverock sings a bonny lay above the Scottish heather; It sprinkles down from far away like light and love together; He drops the golden notes to greet his brooding mate, his dearie; I only know one song more sweet,--the vespers of the veery.

In English gardens, green and bright and full of fruity treasure, I heard the blackbird with delight repeat his merry measure: The ballad was a pleasant one, the tune was loud and cheery, And yet, with every setting sun, I listened for the veery.

But far away, and far away, the tawny thrush is singing; New England woods, at close of day, with that clear chant are ringing: And when my light of life is low, and heart and flesh are weary, I fain would hear, before I go, the wood-notes of the veery.

1895.

THE SONG-SPARROW

There is a bird I know so well, It seems as if he must have sung Beside my crib when I was young; Before I knew the way to spell The name of even the smallest bird, His gentle-joyful song I heard. Now see if you can tell, my dear, What bird it is that, every year, Sings _"Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer."_

He comes in March, when winds are strong, And snow returns to hide the earth; But still he warms his heart with mirth, And waits for May. He lingers long While flowers fade; and every day Repeats his small, contented lay; As if to say, we need not fear The season's change, if love is here With _"Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer."_

He does not wear a Joseph's-coat Of many colours, smart and gay; His suit is Quaker brown and gray, With darker patches at his throat. And yet of all the well-dressed throng Not one can sing so brave a song. It makes the pride of looks appear A vain and foolish thing, to hear His _"Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer."_