275 As of a luck not quite legitimate, Since fortune snatched from wit the lion's part? As one within whose memory it burned Of traders, led by corporate sons of trade, 'T was always thus, and will be; hand and head And that the Jove, yet, howsoever hid, But ever the free race with front sublime, 295 Who do the feat, and lift humanity. Let not him mourn who best entitled was, Nay, mourn not one: let him exult, Yea, plant the tree that bears best apples, plant, 300 Whether thy sons or strangers eat the fruit: We flee away from cities, but we bring perts. 305 We praise the guide, we praise the forest life; But will we sacrifice our dear-bought lore Of books and arts and trained experiment Or count the Sioux a match for Agassiz? Oh no, not we! Witness the shout that shook 310 Wild Tupper Lake; witness the mute all-hail The joyful traveller gives, when on the verge Of craggy Indian wilderness he hears From a log-cabin stream Beethoven's notes On the piano, played with master's hand. 315 "Well done!" he cries: "the bear is kept at bay The lynx, the rattlesnake, the flood, the fire; All the fierce enemies, ague, hunger, cold, This thin spruce roof, this clayed log-wall, This wild plantation will suffice to chase. 320 Now speed the gay celerities of art, What in the desert was impossible Within four walls is possible again, Culture and libraries, mysteries of skill. Traditioned fame of masters, eager strife 325 Of keen competing youths, joined or alone To outdo each other and extort applause. Mind wakes a new-born giant from her sleep. Twirl the old wheels! Time takes fresh start again On for a thousand years of genius more." 330 The holidays were fruitful, but must end; 335 So in the gladness of the new event We struck our camp, and left the happy hills. Almost a smile to steal to cheer her sons, II. THE TITMOUSE. You shall not be overbold East, west, north, south, are his domain. Miles off, three dangerous miles, is home; The frost-king ties my fumbling feet, 343. The Sphinx in classical mythology was a monster having a human head, a lion's body, and sometimes fabled as winged. It used to propose a question to the Thebans and murder all who could not guess it. The riddle was,— "What goes on four feet, on two feet, and three, Edipus gave the answer that it was man, going on four feet as a child, and when old using a staff which made the third foot. But the Sphinx's riddle in the old poetry and in the serious modern acceptation is nothing .ess than the whole problem of human life. 15 Tugs at the heart-strings, numbs the sense, 20 The winds shall sing their dead-march old, The snow is no ignoble shroud, The moon thy mourner, and the cloud. -- Softly, but this way fate was pointing, 'T was coming fast to such anointing, 25 When piped a tiny voice hard by, Gay and polite, a cheerful cry, Chic-chicadeedee! saucy note Out of sound heart and merry throat, This poet, though he live apart, As fits a feathered lord of land; Flew near, with soft wing grazed my hand, Hopped on the bough, then, darting low, 40 Prints his small impress on the snow, Shows feats of his gymnastic play, Head downward, clinging to the spray. Here was this atom in full breath, 45 This scrap of valor just for play Fronts the north-wind in waistcoat gray, |