From Poems of Henry van Dyke; copyright 1897, 1911, by Charles Scribner's Sons. By permission of the publishers

The woods are greening overhead,

And flowers adorn each mossy bed;
The waters babble as they run-
One thing is lacking, only one:
If Mary were but here today,
I would believe your charming lay,
"Witchery-witchery-witchery!”

Along the shady road I look-
Who's coming now across the brook?
A woodland maid, all robed in white-
The leaves dance round her with delight,
The stream laughs out beneath her feet-
Sing, merry bird, the charm's complete,
“Witchery—witchery—witchery!”

NOTES AND QUESTIONS

graphy. Henry van Dyke (1852-) was born in Germantown, is now a part of the city of Philadelphia. When a small boy, his moved to Brooklyn. He was graduated from Princeton College in d from the Princeton Theological Seminary in 1877. For several e was pastor of the Brick Presbyterian Church in New York City. e was made professor of English Literature at Princeton University, position he still holds. In 1913 Dr. van Dyke was appointed United Minister to Holland, where he lived during the early years of the War. He has written many stories and poems of great literary

cussion. 1. What bird does the poet celebrate in this poem? 2. pictures does the first stanza give you? 3. What does the Yellowseem to say? 4. Make a list of all the names by which the poet of the bird. 5. What fancy does the poet express in the third and stanzas? 6. What does the poet say is wanting to make the day's complete? 7. Which stanza do you like best? 8. What is the name

THE BELFRY PIGEON

NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS

On the cross-beam under the Old South bell,
The nest of a pigeon is builded well.
In summer and winter, that bird is there,
Out and in with the morning air.

I love to see him track the street
With his wary eye and active feet;
And I often watch him, as he springs,
Circling the steeple with easy wings,
Till across the dial his shade has passed,
And the belfry edge is gained at last.

'Tis a bird I love, with its brooding note,
And the trembling throb in its mottled throat;
There's a human look in its swelling breast,
And the gentle curve of its lowly crest;
And I often stop with the fear I feel,
He runs so close to the rapid wheel.
Whatever is rung on that noisy bell,
Chime of the hour, or funeral knell,
The dove in the belfry must hear it well.

When the tongue swings out to the midnight moon,
When the sexton cheerily rings for noon,
When the clock strikes clear at morning light,
When the child is waked with "nine at night,"
When the chimes play soft in the Sabbath air,
Filling the spirit with tones of prayer,
Whatever tale in the bell is heard,

He broods on his folded feet unstirred,

Or, rising half in his rounded nest,
He takes the time to smooth his breast;
Then drops again, with filméd eyes,
And sleeps as the last vibration dies.

Sweet bird! I would that I could be
A hermit in the crowd, like thee!
With wings to fly to wood and glen,
Thy lot, like mine, is cast with men;
And, daily, with unwilling feet,
I tread, like thee, the crowded street;
But, unlike me, when day is o'er,
Thou canst dismiss the world, and soar;
Or, at a half-felt wish for rest,

Canst smooth the feathers on thy breast,
And drop, forgetful, to thy nest.

I would that, on such wings of gold,
I could my weary heart upfold;

I would I could look down unmoved
(Unloving as I am unloved),

And while the world throngs on beneath,
Smooth down my cares and calmly breathe;
And, never sad with others' sadness,
And never glad with others' gladness,
Listen, unstirred, to knell or chime,
And, lapped in quiet, bide my time.

NOTES AND QUESTIONS

ographical and Historical Note. Nathaniel Parker Willis (1806-1867) native of Portland, Maine, and a graduate of Yale College. He was

Discussion. 1. What do the first two stanzas tell you about the bird? 2. Name the various sounds of the bell that the poet mentions. 3. What comparison is found in the fifth stanza? 4. Compare the last stanza of "The Sandpiper" with the last stanza of this poem and tell which you like the better. 5. Can you give a reason why the pigeon is made the hero of this poem?

THE SANDPIPER

CELIA THAXTER

Across the lonely beach we flit,
One little sandpiper and I;
And fast I gather, bit by bit,

The scattered driftwood, bleached and dry.
The wild waves reach their hands for it,
The wild wind raves, the tide runs high,
As up and down the beach we flit,

One little sandpiper and I.

Above our heads the sullen clouds
Scud, black and swift, across the sky;
Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds
Stand out the white lighthouses high.
Almost as far as eye can reach
I see the close-reefed vessels fly,
As fast we flit along the beach,
One little sandpiper and I.