



Produced by David Widger





                           THE POETICAL WORKS

                                   OF

                         OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES


                 [Volume 2 of the 1893 three volume set]




                         SONGS OF MANY SEASONS

                              1862-1874




          OPENING THE WINDOW
          PROGRAMME

     IN THE QUIET DAYS
          AN OLD-YEAR SONG
          DOROTHY Q: A FAMILY PORTRAIT
          THE ORGAN-BLOWER
          AT THE PANTOMIME
          AFTER THE FIRE
          A BALLAD OF THE BOSTON TEA-PARTY
          NEARING THE SNOW-LINE

     IN WAR TIME
          TO CANAAN: A PURITAN WAR-SONG
          "THUS SAITH THE LORD, I OFFER THEE THREE THINGS"
          NEVER OR NOW
          ONE COUNTRY
          GOD SAVE THE FLAG!
          HYMN AFTER THE EMANCIPATION PROCLAMATION
          HYMN FOR THE FAIR AT CHICAGO
          UNDER THE WASHINGTON ELM, CAMBRIDGE
          FREEDOM, OUR QUEEN
          ARMY HYMN
          PARTING HYMN
          THE FLOWER OF LIBERTY
          THE SWEET LITTLE MAN
          UNION AND LIBERTY

     SONGS OF WELCOME AND FAREWELL
          AMERICA TO RUSSIA
          WELCOME TO THE GRAND DUKE ALEXIS
          AT THE BANQUET TO THE GRAND DUKE ALEXIS
          AT THE BANQUET TO THE CHINESE EMBASSY
          AT THE BANQUET TO THE JAPANESE EMBASSY
          BRYANT'S SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY
          A FAREWELL TO AGASSIZ
          AT A DINNER TO ADMIRAL FARRAGUT
          AT A DINNER TO GENERAL GRANT
          To H W LONGFELLOW
          To CHRISTIAN GOTTFRIED EHRENBERG
          A TOAST TO WILKIE COLLINS

     MEMORIAL VERSES
          FOR THE SERVICES IN MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN, BOSTON, 1865
          FOR THE COMMEMORATION SERVICES, CAMBRIDGE JULY 21, 1865
          EDWARD EVERETT: JANUARY 30, 1865
          SHAKESPEARE TERCENTENNIAL CELEBRATION, APRIL 23, 1864
          IN MEMORY OF JOHN AND ROBERT WARE, MAY 25, 1864
          HUMBOLDT'S BIRTHDAY: CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION, SEPTEMBER 14, 1869
          POEM AT THE DEDICATION OF THE HALLECK MONUMENT, JULY 8, 1869
          HYMN FOR THE CELEBRATION AT THE LAYING OF THE CORNER-STONE OF
               HARVARD MEMORIAL HALL, CAMBRIDGE, OCTOBER 6, 1870
          HYMN FOR THE DEDICATION OF MEMORIAL HALL AT CAMBRIDGE, 1874
          HYMN AT THE FUNERAL SERVICES OF CHARLES SUMNER, APRIL 29, 1874

     RHYMES OF AN HOUR
          ADDRESS FOR THE OPENING OF THE FIFTH AVENUE THEATRE, N. Y. 1873
          A SEA DIALOGUE
          CHANSON WITHOUT MUSIC
          FOR THE CENTENNIAL DINNER, PROPRIETORS OF BOSTON PIER, 1873
          A POEM SERVED TO ORDER
          THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH
          No TIME LIKE THE OLD TIME
          A HYMN OF PEACE, TO THE MUSIC OF KELLER'S "AMERICAN HYMN"





OPENING THE WINDOW

THUS I lift the sash, so long
Shut against the flight of song;
All too late for vain excuse,--
Lo, my captive rhymes are loose.

Rhymes that, flitting through my brain,
Beat against my window-pane,
Some with gayly colored wings,
Some, alas! with venomed stings.

Shall they bask in sunny rays?
Shall they feed on sugared praise?
Shall they stick with tangled feet
On the critic's poisoned sheet?

Are the outside winds too rough?
Is the world not wide enough?
Go, my winged verse, and try,--
Go, like Uncle Toby's fly!





PROGRAMME

READER--gentle--if so be
Such still live, and live for me,
Will it please you to be told
What my tenscore pages hold?

Here are verses that in spite
Of myself I needs must write,
Like the wine that oozes first
When the unsqueezed grapes have burst.

Here are angry lines, "too hard!"
Says the soldier, battle-scarred.
Could I smile his scars away
I would blot the bitter lay,

Written with a knitted brow,
Read with placid wonder now.
Throbbed such passion in my heart?
Did his wounds once really smart?

Here are varied strains that sing
All the changes life can bring,
Songs when joyous friends have met,
Songs the mourner's tears have wet.

See the banquet's dead bouquet,
Fair and fragrant in its day;
Do they read the selfsame lines,--
He that fasts and he that dines?

Year by year, like milestones placed,
Mark the record Friendship traced.
Prisoned in the walls of time
Life has notched itself in rhyme.

As its seasons slid along,
Every year a notch of song,
From the June of long ago,
When the rose was full in blow,

Till the scarlet sage has come
And the cold chrysanthemum.
Read, but not to praise or blame;
Are not all our hearts the same?

For the rest, they take their chance,--
Some may pay a passing glance;
Others,-well, they served a turn,--
Wherefore written, would you learn?

Not for glory, not for pelf,
Not, be sure, to please myself,
Not for any meaner ends,--
Always "by request of friends."

Here's the cousin of a king,--
Would I do the civil thing?
Here's the first-born of a queen;
Here's a slant-eyed Mandarin.

Would I polish off Japan?
Would I greet this famous man,
Prince or Prelate, Sheik or Shah?--
Figaro gi and Figaro la!

Would I just this once comply?--
So they teased and teased till I
(Be the truth at once confessed)
Wavered--yielded--did my best.

Turn my pages,--never mind
If you like not all you find;
Think not all the grains are gold
Sacramento's sand-banks hold.

Every kernel has its shell,
Every chime its harshest bell,
Every face its weariest look,
Every shelf its emptiest book,

Every field its leanest sheaf,
Every book its dullest leaf,
Every leaf its weakest line,--
Shall it not be so with mine?

Best for worst shall make amends,
Find us, keep us, leave us friends
Till, perchance, we meet again.
Benedicite.--Amen!

October 7, 1874.





IN THE QUIET DAYS

AN OLD-YEAR SONG

As through the forest, disarrayed
By chill November, late I strayed,
A lonely minstrel of the wood
Was singing to the solitude
I loved thy music, thus I said,
When o'er thy perch the leaves were spread
Sweet was thy song, but sweeter now
Thy carol on the leafless bough.
Sing, little bird! thy note shall cheer
The sadness of the dying year.

When violets pranked the turf with blue
And morning filled their cups with dew,
Thy slender voice with rippling trill
The budding April bowers would fill,
Nor passed its joyous tones away
When April rounded into May:
Thy life shall hail no second dawn,--
Sing, little bird! the spring is gone.

And I remember--well-a-day!--
Thy full-blown summer roundelay,
As when behind a broidered screen
Some holy maiden sings unseen
With answering notes the woodland rung,
And every tree-top found a tongue.
How deep the shade! the groves how fair!
Sing, little bird! the woods are bare.

The summer's throbbing chant is done
And mute the choral antiphon;
The birds have left the shivering pines
To flit among the trellised vines,
Or fan the air with scented plumes
Amid the love-sick orange-blooms,
And thou art here alone,--alone,--
