| Heigh-ho! daisies and buttercups, |
| Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall! |
| When the wind wakes, how they rock in the grasses, |
| And dance with the cuckoo-buds slender and small! |
| Here's two bonny boys, and here's mother's own lasses |
| Eager to gather them all. |
| |
| Heigh-ho! daisies and buttercups! |
| Mother shall thread them a daisy chain; |
| Sing them a song of the pretty hedge-sparrow, |
| That loved her brown little ones, loved them full fain; |
| Sing, "Heart, thou art wide though the house be but narrow,"— |
| Sing once, and sing it again. |
| |
| Heigh-ho! daisies and buttercups, |
| Sweet wagging cowslips, they bend and they bow; |
| A ship sails afar over warm ocean waters, |
| And haply one musing doth stand at her prow, |
| O bonny brown son, and O sweet little daughters, |
| Maybe he thinks on you now! |
| |
| Heigh-ho! daisies and buttercups, |
| Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall! |
| A sunshiny world full of laughter and leisure, |
| And fresh hearts unconscious of sorrow and thrall! |
| Send down on their pleasure smiles passing its measure, |
| God that is over us all! |
| |
| Jean Ingelow. |
| Ere, in the northern gale, |
| The summer tresses of the trees are gone, |
| The woods of Autumn, all around our vale, |
| Have put their glory on. |
| |
| The mountains that infold, |
| In their wide sweep, the colored landscape round, |
| Seem groups of giant kings, in purple and gold, |
| That guard the enchanted ground. |
| |
| I roam the woods that crown |
| The upland, where the mingled splendors glow, |
| Where the gay company of trees look down |
| On the green fields below. |
| |
| My steps are not alone |
| In these bright walks; the sweet southwest, at play, |
| Flies, rustling, where the painted leaves are strown |
| Along the winding way. |
| |
| And far in heaven, the while, |
| The sun, that sends that gale to wander here, |
| Pours out on the fair earth his quiet smile,— |
| The sweetest of the year. |
| |
| Where now the solemn shade, |
| Verdure and gloom where many branches meet; |
| So grateful, when the noon of summer made |
| The valleys sick with heat? |
| |
| Let in through all the trees |
| Come the strange rays; the forest depths are bright; |
| Their sunny-colored foliage, in the breeze, |
| Twinkles, like beams of light. |
| |
| The rivulet, late unseen, |
| Where bickering through the shrubs its waters run, |
| Shines with the image of its golden screen |
| And glimmerings of the sun. |
| |
| But 'neath yon crimson tree, |
| Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame, |
| Nor mark, within its roseate canopy, |
| Her blush of maiden shame. |
| |
| Oh, Autumn! why so soon |
| Depart the hues that make thy forests glad; |
| Thy gentle wind and thy fair sunny noon, |
| And leave thee wild and sad? |
| |
| Ah! 'twere a lot too blessed |
| Forever in thy colored shades to stray; |
| Amid the kisses of the soft southwest |
| To rove and dream for aye; |
| |
| And leave the vain low strife |
| That makes men mad—the tug for wealth and power, |
| The passions and the cares that wither life, |
| And waste its little hour. |
| |
| William Cullen Bryant. |
| Did you ever hear of the Drummer Boy of Mission Ridge, who lay |
| With his face to the foe, 'neath the enemy's guns, in the charge of that terrible day? |
| They were firing above him and firing below, and the tempest of shot and shell |
| Was raging like death, as he moaned in his pain, by the breastworks where he fell. |
| |
| "Go back with your corps," our colonel had said, but he waited the moment when |
| He might follow the ranks and shoulder a gun with the best of us bearded men; |
| And so when the signals from old Fort Wood set an army of veterans wild, |
| He flung down his drum, which spun down the hill like the ball of a wayward child. |
| |
| And then he fell in with the foremost ranks of brave old company G, |
| As we charged by the flank, with our colors ahead, and our columns closed up like a V, |
| In the long, swinging lines of that splendid advance, when the flags of our corps floated out, |
| Like the ribbons that dance in the jubilant lines of the march of a gala day rout. |
| |
| He charged with the ranks, though he carried no gun, for the colonel had said him nay, |
| And he breasted the blast of the bristling guns, and the shock of the sickening fray; |
| And when by his side they were falling like hail he sprang to a comrade slain, |
| And shouldered his musket and bore it as true as the hand that was dead in pain. |
| |
| 'Twas dearly we loved him, our Drummer Boy, with a fire in his bright, black eye, |
| That flashed forth a spirit too great for his form—he only was just so high, |
| As tall, perhaps, as your little lad who scarcely reaches your shoulder— |
| Though his heart was the heart of a veteran then, a trifle, it may be, bolder. |
| |
| He pressed to the front, our lad so leal, and the works were almost won, |
| A moment more and our flags had swung o'er the muzzle of murderous gun; |
| But a raking fire swept the van, and he fell 'mid the wounded and slain, |
| With his wee wan face turned up to Him who feeleth His children's pain. |
| |
| Again and again our lines fell back, and again with shivering shocks |
| They flung themselves on the rebels' works as ships are tossed on rocks; |
| To be crushed and broken and scattered amain, as the wrecks of the surging storm. |
| Where none may rue and none may reck of aught that has human form. |
| |
| So under the ridge we were lying for the order to charge again, |
| And we counted our comrades missing, and we counted our comrades slain; |
| And one said, "Johnny, our Drummer Boy, is grievously shot and lies |
| Just under the enemy's breastwork; if left on the field he dies." |
| |
| Then all the blood that was in me surged up to my aching brow, |
| And my heart leaped up like a ball in my throat—I can feel it even now, |
| And I said I would bring that boy from the field, if God would spare my breath, |
| If all the guns in Mission Ridge should thunder the threat of death. |
| |
| I crept and crept up the ghastly ridge, by the wounded and the dead, |
| With the moans of my comrades right and left, behind me and yet ahead, |
| Till I came to the form of our Drummer Boy, in his blouse of dusty blue, |
| With his face to the foe, 'neath the enemy's guns, where the blast of the battle blew. |
| |
| And his gaze as he met my own just there would have melted a heart of stone, |
| As he tried like a wounded bird to rise, and placed his hand in my own; |
| And he said in a voice half smothered, though its whispering thrills me yet, |
| "I think in a moment more that I would have stood on that parapet. |
| |
| "But now I nevermore will climb, and, Sergeant, when you see |
| The men go up those breastworks there, just stop and waken me; |
| For though I cannot make the charge and join the cheers that rise, |
| I may forget my pain to see the old flag kiss the skies." |
| |
| Well, it was hard to treat him so, his poor limb shattered sore, |
| But I raised him on my shoulder and to the surgeon bore; |
| And the boys who saw us coming each gave a shout of joy, |
| And uttered fervent prayers for him, our valiant Drummer Boy. |
| |
| When sped the news that "Fighting Joe" had saved the Union right, |
| With his legions fresh from Lookout; and that Thomas massed his might |
| And forced the rebel center; and our cheering ran like wild; |
| And Sherman's heart was happy as the heart of a little child; |
| |
| When Grant from his lofty outlook saw our flags by the hundred fly |
| Along the slopes of Mission Ridge, where'er he cast his eye; |
| And when we heard the thrilling news of the mighty battle done, |
| The fearful contest ended, and the glorious victory won; |
| |
| Then his bright black eyes so yearning grew strangely rapt and wide, |
| And in that hour of conquest our little hero died. |
| But ever in our hearts he dwells, with a grace that ne'er is old, |
| For him the heart to duty wed can nevermore grow cold! |
| |
| And when they tell of heroes, and the laurels they have won, |
| Of the scars they are doomed to carry, of the deeds that they have done; |
| Of the horror to be biding among the ghastly dead, |
| The gory sod beneath them, the bursting shell o'erhead, |
| |
| My heart goes back to Mission Ridge and the Drummer Boy who lay |
| With his face to the foe, 'neath the enemy's guns, in the charge of that terrible day; |
| And I say that the land that bears such sons is crowned and dowered with all |
| The dear God giveth nations to stay them lest they fall. |
| |
| Oh, glory of Mission Ridge, stream on, like the roseate light of morn, |
| On the sons that now are living, on the sons that are yet unborn! |
| And cheers for our comrades living, and tears as they pass away! |
| And three times three for the Drummer Boy who fought at the front that day! |