Why?

Why did I go where roses grew, And meadow larks which skyward flew From grasses sparkling in the dew, The yellow sunshine pouring through? What was there for me to find? Were they to learn my froward mind? From far across vast summer seas, Rifling green marshes, bending trees, Driving cloud-shadows down the air, Keen breezes smote me here and there, Keen breezes crying, Why, why, why? And nothing had I to reply! Beings with neither soul nor sense, Convicting me with their pretence; Beings of change,--but what am I,-- Once more repeating, Why, why, why?

AUGUST.

Read by the wayside, read by the brook, That this is the passion of the year; Look at the fields, look at the woods, Look upon me, and--draw near!

Just as these days are, so is my heart; Lilies are flaming, berries are ripe; Alders blow sweet, acorns are full-- And the bobolink's young ones pipe!

Ponder the river, ponder the sky, Hazy and gray, hazy and blue; Study the trees wed to the wind-- I promise you I'll be as true! Yes, true as August--as the birds' song, The sweet fern's scent, the weedy, blue shore, The shine of vines, smilax, and grape-- What can you ask for more?

OCTOBER.

Falling leaves and falling men! When the snows of winter fall, And the winds of winter blow, Will be woven Nature's pall.

Let us, then, forsake our dead, For the dead will surely wait, While we rush upon the foe, Eager for the hero's fate.

Leaves will come upon the trees, Spring will show the happy race; Mothers will give birth to sons, Loyal souls to fill our place.

Wherefore should we rest and rust? Soldiers, we must fight and save Freedom now, and give our foes All their country should--a grave!