A Rhyme of Summer / James Berry Bensel

A Rhyme of Summer

The daisies nodded in the grass, the buttercups were sleeping,
And just across the river sang the farmers at their reaping;
Upon the hills, so blue and far, the maple leaves were showing
Their pallid beauty in the breeze that from the sea was blowing.
A little maid came through the land with song and rippling laughter;
The buttercups made way for her, the daisies nodded after.

A strong young farmer saw her pause beside the parting river;
She drew a lily from its depth with golden heart a-quiver.
"Thou art more fair than lilies are," said he with head uplifted;
And threw a poppy, which the stream swift to the maiden drifted.
She set the flowers within her hair, — the red and white together;
A cloud grew black before the sun and rainy was the weather.

He came across the river then, this farmer, from his mowing; 

He heeded not the water's depth, he cared not for its flowing.
"O love!" said he, "if gleaming sun and cloudless skies o'erlean us,
The river's barring width may roll unpassed, untried between us;
But when loud thunder fills the air, and clouds and rain come over,
I'd cross the ocean to your side, — I am no fairday lover! "

And so one noon the village bells rang out across the river,
Their music set the buttercups and daisies all a-shiver,
While some one drew a lily from the stream so blithely flowing,
And plucked a blood-red poppy that amid the wheat was growing; 

The maiden set them in her hair — the red and white together —
With many a smile, a tear or two, and glances at the weather.

They passed beneath the chapel's shade — the farmer and the maiden —
Where arches crossed above their heads, with snowy blossoms laden,
And in that place of holy calm the binding words were spoken;
He in his heart bore out the truth, she on her hand the token.
The years went by, and some were bright and some were clouded over,
But ever stood he at her side,— he was no fair-day lover.

~~
James Berry Bensel (1856-1886)

from In the King's Garden, and other poems, 1885

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

James Berry Bensel biography

We Like the Winter and its Snows / James Berry Bensel

Ballade

When we were children we would say, —
    "I like the coming of the Spring,
I like the violets of May,
    I like, why, almost everything
    That March and May and April bring."
But now we value less the rose,
    And care not when the birds take wing.
We like the Winter and its snows.

For Springtime cannot always stay,
    And song-birds do not always sing;
The Summer passes swift away,
    And Autumn tree leaves weakly cling.
    So when we sit here listening
To every fitful wind that blows,
    And see the white land glistening,
We like the Winter and its snows.

Who would not in the fountain's spray
    His heavy cares be glad to fling,
If life were all a summer day
    And green boughs bent for us to swing!
    But roses bear sharp thorns that sting,
And yesterday the fountain froze,
    So while the winds are whistling
We like the Winter and its snows.

Envoi

Prince, you and I are glad to ring
    Our changes on the youth that goes,
And laugh while we are shivering,
    "We like the Winter and its snows."

~~
James Berry Bensel (1856-1886)

from Through the Year with the Poets, 1885

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

James Berry Bensel biography

Hassan Ghaedi, Snowy Day of Tehran, 2007. CC BY 4.0, 

courtesy Fars Media Corporation and Wikimedia Commons.

The Passing of Summer / James Berry Bensel

The Passing of Summer

She gathers up her robes of green and gold,
    The fair, sweet Summer, and across the land
    We see her go, with outward-reaching hand
Whose magic spreads its beauties manifold
Along the region by her sway controlled.
    The trees, o'erhung with gorgeous banners, stand
    To see her pass them with a last command,
While all the world is draped in splendor bold.

She passes onward, from the lowlands first,
    Then lays a reverent touch on every hill,
        A smile of promise lighting up her face;
The brooks are fain to quench her fateful thirst,
    And glowing carpets line her roadway still,
    The splendid queen departing from her place.

~~
James Berry Bensel (1856-1886)

from In the King's Garden, and other poems, 1885

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

James Berry Bensel biography

"Tiandra, the Summer Queen", 2015. CC BY-SA 3.0, The Time of Fire.

February / James Berry Bensel

February

Around, above the world of snow

The light-heeled breezes breathe and blow;

Now here, now there, they whirl the flakes,

And whistle through the sun-dried brakes,

Then, growing faint, in silence fall
Against the keyhole in the hall.

Then dusky twilight spreads around,
The last soft snowflake seeks the ground,
And through unshaded window-panes
The lamp-rays strike across the plains,
While now and then a shadow tall
Is thrown upon the white washed wall.

The hoar-frost crackles on the trees,
The rattling brook begins to freeze,
The well-sweep glistens in the light
As if with dust of diamonds bright;
And speeding o'er the crusted snow
A few swift-footed rabbits go.

Then the night-silence, long and deep,
When weary eyes close fast in sleep;
The hush of Nature's breath, until
The cock crows loud upon the hill;
And shortly through the eastern haze
The red sun sets the sky ablaze.

~~
James Berry Bensel (1856-1886)

from Golden Treasury of Poetry, 1959

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

James Berry Bensel biography