Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/695

1850-60.] WILLIAM D. HOWELLS. G79 I rise and stretch my longing arms in vain, And fold in void embraces on my breast The nothing clasp'd, and with dim fears oppress'd, Cry to the shores I shall not see again, Drifting away ! THE MOVERS. Parting was over at last, and all the good- byes had been spoken. Up the long hill-side the white-tented wag- on moved slowly, Bearing the mother and children, while on- ward before them the father Trudged with his gun on his arm, and the faithful house-dog beside him, Grave and sedate, as if knowing the sor- rowful thoughts of his master. April was in her prime, and the day in its dewy awaking; Like a great flower, afar on the crest of the eastern wood-land, Goldenly bloomed the sun, and over the beautiful valley. Dim with its dew and its shadow, and bright with its dream of a river. Looked to the western hills, and shone on the humble procession, Paining with splendor the children's eyes, and the heart of the mother. Beauty, and fragrance, and song filled the air like a palpable presence. Sweet was the smell of the dewy leaves and the flowers in the wild-wood, Fair the long reaches of sun and shade in the aisles of the forest. Glad of the spring, and of love, and of morning, the wild birds were singing ; Jays to each other called harshly, then mellowly fluted together ; Sang the oriole songs as golden and gay as his plumage ; Penisvely piped the querulous quails their greetings unfrequent, Wliile, on the meadow-elm, the meadow- lark gushed forth in music. Rapt, exultant and shaken, with the great joy of his singing ; Over the river, loud-chattering, aloft in the air, the kmg-fisher. Hung, ere he dropped, like a bolt in the water beneath him ; Gossiping, out of the bank, flew myriad twittering swallows ; And in the boughs of the sycamore quar- reled and clamored the blackbirds. Never for these things a moment halted the movers, but onward, Up the long hill-side the white tented wag- on moved slowly. Till, on the summit, that overlooked all the beautiful valley. Trembling and spent, the horses came to a standstill unbidden ; Then from the wagon the mother in silence got down with her children. Came, and stood by the father, and rested her hand on his shoulder. Long together they gazed on the beautiful valley before them ; Looked on the well-known fields that stretched away to the wood-lands. Where, in the dark lines of green, showed the milk-white crest of the dogwood, Snow of wild plums in bloom, and crim- son tints of the red-bud ; Looked on the pasture-fields where the cat- tle were lazily grazing — Softly, and sweet, and thin, came the faint, far notes of the cow-bells ; Looked on the oft-trodden lanes, with their elder and blackberry borders,