The Woods in May / Ellwood Roberts

The Woods in May

Otto P. Balle (1865-1916), A Pine Forest in May,

 1909 (detail). Wikimedia Commons.

There dwells a subtle fragrance
    Within the woods of May,
That baffles all description,
    Inviting us to stay.
Aroma of the spring-time,
    Of bursting buds it tells,
Of wild flowers bright unfolding
    From out their tiny cells.

The newborn leaves a tender
    And brilliant green display;
When come the heats of summer,
    It quickly flies away.
Among the trees we wander,
    With sense of keen delight;
We may not feel it later,
    Though sunshine be as bright.

Sweet Nature's resurrection
    From Winter's ice and snow,
Fills woods of May with beauty
    Beyond all else we know.
The fragrant honeysuckle,
    And dogwood flowers white,
Bloom here in all their glory,
    A vision of delight.

How natural to linger
    Among the woods of May,
So many wonders are there,
    Inviting us to stay.
Each bush and tree has treasures
    Of leaf, or bud, or flower;
No art is there like Nature's
    When she exerts her power.

A tender, new-born glory,
    The leaflets all display,
There dwells a subtle fragranc
    Around our path to-day;
It bids us pause and linger,
    Ere it be gone for aye.
What joy and peace and sweetness
    Within the woods of May!

~~
Ellwood Roberts (1846-1921)
From Lyrics of Quakerism, and other poems, 1895

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Ellwood Roberts biography

January / Ellwood Roberts

January

The short midwinter days are here,
The nights are frosty now and chill —
The solemn midnight of the year —
The snow lies deep on vale and hill.
No longer runs the streamlet nigh,
The ice has bound its waters fast;
An Arctic wind is sweeping by,
The bare trees shiver in the blast.

How changed the Schuylkill's tide! no more
It sparkles in the noonday light;
The ice extends from shore to shore,
Its strength increasing, day and night.
The skaters o'er its surface fly,
In rhythmic motion, all the day,
While dark clouds sweep across the sky,
Foreboding tempests on the way.

And soon we see the storm begin,
All day the snowflakes scurry past,
All night we hear the tempest's din,
The forests bend beneath the blast.
In whirling clouds the snow is hurled,
Along the hillside, down the glen;
Another day the whole bright world
Is shut by drifts beyond our ken.

But soon the sun resumes his sway,
His noontide beams are warm and bright;
The stubborn ice-bridge yields by day,
Though drear and sombre falls the night.
Alternate thaw and storm and cold,
With snowdrifts deep and changeful sky,
The earth in chill embrace enfold —
And so the month goes slowly by.

Midwinter days and nights so drear,
With storm-clouds sweeping o'er the sky—
The solemn midnight of the year
Soon pass and leave no token nigh.
Bare trees that quake beneath the blast,
Will yet be clothed in leafage bright,
And days so chill — the Winter past —
Be bathed in floods of Spring-time light.

~~
Ellwood Roberts (1846-1921)
From Lyrics of Quakerism, and other poems, 1895

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Ellwood Roberts biography

Logopop, Moonlight in the middle of nowhere 4, 2011. CC BY-SA 3.0, Wikimedia Commons

Early Summer / Ellwood Roberts

Early Summer

Full of joy is early Summer,
    Growth and warmth and golden light;
Every day is crowned with beauty,
    Full of loveliness the night.
Dazzling sunshine brings the roses,
    Fills the whole bright world with bloom;
Day and night rejoice together,
    Banished now are doubt and gloom.

Skies serene and loving woo us
    To the woods and fields to-day;
Who would linger long when Nature
    Calls him to her feast away?
Earth a veritable Eden
    In the glowing sunlight gleams,
Life a grand and noble epic,
    Viewed from such a standpoint seems.

Gladness reigns the wide world over,
    Early Summer's golden light
Fills each bosom with thanksgiving
    For the season's blessings bright.
Happy harvest days are coming,
    Full of joy, throughout the land;
Where the fields of grain are waving,
    Full-eared wheat in shocks shall stand.

Perfect days that pass too quickly,
    One by one they come and go,
Each in turn reveals rare blessing,
    Beauty passing all below.
Balmy air and bright green landscape,
    Glowing eve and dewy dawn;
Sunlight's gold on field and forest —
    We shall grieve when these are gone.

Joyous time to him that loveth
    Growth and warmth and golden light;
Day is full of blessed beauty,
    Full of peace the dewy night.
Early Summer! time of roses,
    All the earth is filled with bloom;
Every heart in thee rejoices,
    Banished now are doubt and gloom.

~~
Ellwood Roberts (1846-1921)
From Lyrics of Quakerism, and other poems, 1895

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Ellwood Roberts biography

"Early Summer" set to music by Barns Joyce. Courtesy BearnHeardt.

July / Ellwood Roberts

July

Month of sultry noons and nights!
    Fields are parched for want of rain;
But thou hast thy own delights,
    Luscious fruits and golden grain.
Ripened wheat in heavy sheaves,
    Merry workmen store away,
Pile in barns above the eaves,
    On the mows of fragrant hay.

'Tis the bright noon of the year,
    Overhead the hot sun gleams,
Through the quivering atmosphere,
    Pierce all day his ardent beams.
Dewy night and misty morn
    Follow sunset bright and clear;
In the field the waving corn
    Sends aloft its stalk and ear.

Thunder-storms at midday rise,
    Veiling noon in deepest gloom,
O'er the clouds the lightning flies,
    How its flashes all illume!
Swiftly comes the dashing rain —
    Hillsides perishing with thirst,
Drink, and are refreshed again;
    Streams their limits quickly burst.

Gone the shower, the floods recede,
    Brightly shines the sun again;
Heat and moisture fill the need,
    Rich growth covers all the plain.
In the orchard apples show
    Rich tints borrowed from the sun;
Mid the bright green leaves they glow,
    Here and there a luscious one.

Month of sultry noons and nights!
    Fields are parched for lack of rain,
But thou hast thy rare delights,
    Sweet ripe fruits and golden grain.
Busy, languid harvest time,
    Days to Nature's lovers dear;
Summer yet is in her prime,
    And her glory crowns the year.

~~
Ellwood Roberts (1846-1921)
From Lyrics of Quakerism, and other poems, 1895

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Ellwood Roberts biography

Jonathan Billinger, July field edge and wheat crop, 2014. CC BY-SA 2.0, Wikimedia Commons.

February Days / Ellwood Roberts

February Days

The icy northern blast sweeps by,
    From wild wastes of the Arctic snow;
Above us droops a wintry sky,
    A bleak white landscape lies below.
But, 'neath the chilly Polar blast,
    A low, sweet undertone I hear:
"The wintry storms will soon be past,
    And pleasant Spring-time days are near."

In Winter's stern and icy grasp,
    Are river, pond, and rill, to-day;
Like iron bonds his fetters' clasp,
    Like despot's rule his frosty sway.
But only yesterday I heard —
    Though all the landscape was so drear —
The sweet voice of a lonesome bird:
    "The Spring-time days will soon be here."

The air is icy, keen and chill,
    All Nature lies in sleep profound,
That seems like death—so cold, so still —
    But flowers are biding underground.
The sun mounts up, from day to day,
    His beams each morn more full of cheer.
And to our hearts they seem to say:
    "The Spring-time days will soon be here."

The ice and snow will soon be gone,
    The Spring-time waits the sun's warm rays,
Already we can trace the dawn
    Of brighter, warmer, sweeter days.
Each morn we watch for signs of Spring,
    Each evening feel its coming near.
All Nature's voices seem to sing:
    "The Spring-time days will soon be here."

And though an Arctic wind sweeps by
    From wildest wastes of ice and snow,
And though above us wintry sky,
    And desolate white fields below —
Beneath the wind's wild organ-blast,
    A low, sweet undertone I hear:
"The wintry storms will soon be past,
    The sunny Spring-time days are near."

~~
Ellwood Roberts (1846-1921)
From Lyrics of Quakerism, and other poems, 1895

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Ellwood Roberts biography

Vyacheslav Argenberg, Don River in Ice, Rostov, 2012. CC BY 4.0, Wikimedia Commons