Part 76

There ruddy HEALTH, in rude majestic state, His clust'ring forelock combatting the winds-- Bares to each season's change his breast elate, And still fresh vigor from th' encounter finds;

With mighty mind to every fortune braced, To every climate each corporeal power, And high-proof heart, impenetrably cased, He mocks the quick transitions of the hour.

Now could he hug bleak Zembla's bolted snow, Now to Arabia's heated deserts turn, Yet bids the biting blast more fiercely blow, The scorching sun without abatement burn.

There this bold Outlaw, rising with the morn, His sinewy functions fitted for the toil, Pursues, with tireless steps, the rapturous horn, And bears in triumph back the shaggy spoil.

Or, on his rugged range of towering hills, Turns the stiff glebe behind his hardy team; His wide-spread heaths to blithest measures tills, And boasts the joys of life are not a dream!

Then to his airy hut, at eve, retires, Clasps to his open breast his buxom spouse, Basks in his faggot's blaze, his passions fires, And strait supine to rest unbroken bows.

On his smooth forehead, Time's old annual score, Tho' left to furrow, yet disdains to lie; He bids weak sorrow tantalize no more, And puts the cup of care contemptuous by.

If, from some inland height, that, skirting, bears Its rude encroachments far into the vale, He views where poor dishonor'd nature wears On her soft cheek alone the lily pale;

How will he scorn alliance with the race, Those aspen shoots that shiver at a breath; Children of sloth, that danger dare not face, And find in life but an extended death:

Then from the silken reptiles will he fly, To the bold cliff in bounding transports run, And stretch'd o'er many a wave his ardent eye, Embrace the enduring Sea-Boy as his son!

Yes! thine alone--from pain, from sorrow free, The lengthen'd life with peerless joys replete; Then let me, Lord of Mountains, share with thee The hard, the early toil--the relaxation sweet.

GAY-HEARTEDNESS

Walking on the old Navy Yard bridge, Washington, D. C., once with a companion, Mr. Marshall, from England, a great traveler and observer, as a squad of laughing young black girls pass'd us--then two copper-color'd boys, one good-looking lad 15 or 16, barefoot, running after--"What gay creatures they all appear to be," said Mr. M. Then we fell to talking about the general lack of buoyant animal spirits. "I think," said Mr. M., "that in all my travels, and all my intercourse with people of every and any class, especially the cultivated ones, (the literary and fashionable folks,) I have never yet come across what I should call a really GAY-HEARTED MAN."

It was a terrible criticism--cut into me like a surgeon's lance. Made me silent the whole walk home.

AS IN A SWOON.

As in a swoon, one instant, Another sun, ineffable, full-dazzles me, And all the orbs I knew--and brighter, unknown orbs; One instant of the future land, Heaven's land.

L. OF G.

Thoughts, suggestions, aspirations, pictures, Cities and farms--by day and night--book of peace and war, Of platitudes and of the commonplace.

For out-door health, the land and sea--for good will, For America--for all the earth, all nations, the common people, (Not of one nation only--not America only.)

In it each claim, ideal, line, by all lines, claims, ideals, temper'd; Each right and wish by other wishes, rights.

AFTER THE ARGUMENT.

A group of little children with their ways and chatter flow in, Like welcome rippling water o'er my heated nerves and flesh.

FOR US TWO, READER DEAR.

Simple, spontaneous, curious, two souls interchanging, With the original testimony for us continued to the last.

MEMORANDA

Of course these few exceptional later mems are far, far short of one's concluding history or thoughts or life-giving--only a hap-hazard pinch of all. But the old Greek proverb put it, "Anybody who really has a good quality" (or bad one either, I guess) "has all." There's something in the proverb; but you mustn't carry it too far.

I will not reject any theme or subject because the treatment is too personal.

As my stuff settles into shape, I am told (and sometimes myself discover, uneasily, but feel all right about it in calmer moments) it is mainly autobiographic, and even egotistic after all--which I finally accept, and am contented so.