NATURE. THE GREENWOOD TREE. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. UNDER the greenwood tree Unto the sweet bird's throat, No enemy, But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun, And pleased with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither! Here shall he see No enemy, But winter and rough weather. HARK! WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. HARK, Hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies: And winking Mary-buds begin HIE AWAY. SIR WALTER SCOTT. HIE away, hie away! Where the copsewood is the greenest, MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS. ROBERT BURNS. My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; The hills of the Highlands forever I love. Farewell to the mountains high covered with snow; A VISIT FROM THE SEA. ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. FAR from the loud sea-beaches, Where he goes fishing and crying, Here in the inland garden, Why is the sea-gull flying? Here are no fish to dive for: Fresh is the river water, And quiet among the rushes; This is no home for the sea-gull, But for the rooks and thrushes. Pity the bird that has wandered! High on the sea-cliff ledges The white gulls are trooping and crying; Here among rooks and roses, Why is the sea-gull flying? THE BROOK. ALFRED TENNYSON. I COME from haunts of coot and hern ; I make a sudden sally, By thirty hills I hurry down, Or slip between the ridges; |