Last autumn one sat above my head in the dark October woods, and put his little soul into a song that seemed to be
Ohhhh! Ohhhh!
The leaves are falling:
Ohhhh! Ohhhh!
A sad voice calling;
Ohhhh! Ohhhh!
The Woodbirds flying;
Ohhhh! Ohhhh!
Sweet summer's dying,
Dying, Dying.
[You can play this music (MIDI file) by clicking [here].]
[You can see the sheet music (PDF file) by clicking [here].]
A mist came into my eyes as I listened, and yet I thanked him. "Dear voice in the trees, you have said the things I felt, and could not say; but voicing my sadness you have given it wings to fly away."
TALE 103
Springtime, or the Wedding of Maka Ina and El Sol
Oh, that was a stirring, glowing time! All the air, and the underwood seemed throbbed with pleasant murmuring voices. The streams were laughing, the deep pools smiling, as pussy-willows scattered catkins on them from above. The oak trees and the birches put on little glad-hangers, like pennants on a gala ship. The pine trees set up their green candles, one on every big tip-twig. The dandelions made haste to glint the early fields with gold. The song toads and the peepers sang in volleys; the blackbirds wheeled their myriad cohorts in the air, a guard of honour in review. The woodwale drummed. The redbud draped its naked limbs in early festal bloom; and Rumour the pretty liar smiled and spread the news.