I have come from the spring woods,
From the fragrant solitudes;

Listen what the poplar tree,

And murmuring waters counselled me.

Es ist hier schön. Es rauscht so fremd und voll.
Der Tannen dunkle Arme regen sich

So rätselhaft. Sie wiegen ihre Häupter

So feierlich. Das Märchen! ja, das Märchen
Weht durch den Wald.

Hauptman

THE WILD WOOD

HIE AWAY, HIE AWAY

IE away, hie away,

Har bank and over brae,

Where the copsewood is the greenest,
Where the fountains glisten sheenest,
Where the lady-fern grows strongest,
Where the morning dew lies longest,
Where the black-cock sweetest sips it,
Where the fairy latest trips it:

Hie to haunts right seldom seen,
Lovely, lonesome, cool, and green,
Over bank and over brae,

Hie away, hie away.

Sir Walter Scott

THRICE HAPPY HE WHO BY SOME SHADY GROVE

HRICE happy he who by some shady grove,

his own;

Though solitary, who is not alone,

But doth converse with that eternal love.

O how more sweet is bird's harmonious moan, Or the hoarse sobbings of the widowed dove, Than those smooth whisperings near a prince's throne,

Which good make doubtful, do the evil approve!

Or how more sweet is Zephyr's wholesome breath,

And sighs enbalmed which new-born flowers un

fold,

Than that applause vain honor doth bequeath! How sweet are streams to poison drunk in gold! The world is full of horrors, troubles, slights; Woods' harmless shades have only true delights. William Drummond

THE SYLVAN LIFE

WHEN in the woods I wander all alone,

WE

The woods that are my solace and de-
light,

Which I more covet than a prince's throne,
My toil by day and canopy by night;

(Light heart, light foot, light food, and slumber light,

These lights shall light me to old age's gate, While monarchs, whom rebellious dreams affright,

Heavy with fear, death's fearful summons wait;)
Whilst here I wander, pleased to be alone,
Weighing in thought the world's no-happiness,
I cannot choose but wonder at its moan,
Since so plain joys the woody life can bless:
Then live who may where honied words prevail,
I with the deer, and with the nightingale!
Edward, Lord Thurlow

THE OUTLAW

BRIGNALL banks are wild and fair,

O, And Greta woods are green,

And you may gather garlands there
Would grace a summer queen.

And as I rode by Dalton Hall,
Beneath the turrets high,
A Maiden on the castle wall
Was singing merrily:

"O, Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green;
I'd rather rove with Edmund there
Than reign our English queen."

"If, Maiden, thou wouldst wend with me,
To leave both tower and town,
Thou first must guess what life lead we
That dwell by dale and down.

And if thou canst that riddle read,
As read full well you may,

Then to the greenwood shalt thou speed,
As blythe as Queen of May."

Yet sang she, “Brignall banks are fair,
And Greta woods are green;

I'd rather rove with Edmund there
Than reign our English queen.

"I read you, by your bugle-horn
And by your palfrey good,
I read you for a Ranger sworn

To keep the king's greenwood." "A Ranger, lady, winds his horn, And 'tis at peep of light;

His blast is heard at merry morn,
And mine at dead of night."

Yet sang she, "Brignall banks are fair,
And Greta woods are gay;

I would I were with Edmund there,
To reign his Queen of May.

"With burnished brand and musketoon
So gallantly you come,

I read you for a bold Dragoon
That lists the tuck of drum."
"I list no more the tuck of drum,
No more the trumpet hear;

But when the beetle sounds his hum,
My comrades take the spear.

"And O! though Brignall banks be fair, And Greta woods be gay,

Yet mickle must the maiden dare
Would reign my Queen of May!

"Maiden! a nameless life I lead,
A nameless death I'll die!

The fiend, whose lantern lights the mead
Were better mate than I!

And when I'm with my comrades met,
Beneath the Greenwood bough,
What once we were we all forget,
Nor think what we are now.

"Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair, And Greta woods are green,

And you may gather garlands there
Would grace a summer queen."

Sir Walter Scott

ENTER THESE ENCHANTED WOODS

FROM The Woods of Westermain

E

NTER these enchanted woods,
You who dare.

Nothing harms beneath the leaves
More than waves a swimmer cleaves.
Toss your heart up with the lark,