How we follow the wild geese’s homing flight Till their chorus dies and they fade from sight, And our pulses thrill to be up and away Joyously buoyant, as free as they. For their far off challenge seems to ring “Awake, glad world, to the songs of Spring!” SWEET FERN Strange perfume of the wilderness, Elusive as an elfin child That broods above the landscape wild - And haunting as a last caress. From thickets broken and obscure That spicy fragrance down the lea, Brings to the ever murmuring sea The sweetness of the barren moor. Low risen thickets, scarcely seen Among the clumps of reindeer moss; What elfin traceries emboss Your leafy arabesques of green! And if no lonely passer by Has trod your solitude to share That incense - every wandering air Has borne it to the bending sky. WHITE SAIL White sail beyond yon point of sand Set like a gem upon the blue, A fairy bark for elfin land Receding gradually from view; White sail a snow flake come to rest Like thistledown, upon the sea; A distant beacon on the breast Of watery immensity. White sail, a finger tip that seems To beckon from the ocean’s rim, To some enchanted isle of dreams Beyond the skyline, vague and dim. White sail that like a lonely tern Fades out against the dying day, We watch till you are gone and yearn To voyage into the far away. THE HUMMING BIRD Blithe wanderer from some happier sphere What hither darting brought you here Swift as a flash of light, With rainbow spatters on your throat Aflutter like a dancing mote Upon a sunbeam bright. Bold atom of exultant life With energy and action rife And pinions all ablurr, What glad exuberance of wing Like harping on a fairy string Evokes that vibrant whirr? With humming, strumming melody Like some supernal bumble bee You flit about to sup On honey dew. Your fearless beak Probes, lancet like, those sweets to seek Within each nectared cup. Ah birdikin, now here, now there, Poised elfinlike, upon the air Aglitter like the dawn, How ardently we would beguile So fair a sprite to rest a while But flash! and you are gone. Yet the unspoken word you bring Still lingers. Time is on the wing And never may be stayed. So let us sip each honeyed hour For life itself is but a flower That all too soon will fade. O ROAD THAT WINDS AMONG THE HILLS O road that winds among the hills With sinuous curves that lure the eye Up distant slopes to meet the sky, And wake a wanderlust that thrills To scenes which beckon far beyond From steep Kashmir or Trebizon.