Selected
Poems
by
Frederick George Scott
THE
POETS OF THE WOODS
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O
singing birds, O singing birds, ye sing in field
and sky
The simple songs of love and joy ye sang in days
gone by;
I hear you in meadows now and up the mountain stream,
And as I listen to your I dream an old world dream.
O singing birds, O singing birds, ye sang in ancient
Greece
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Ere
Paris found the fatal fruit, or Jason sought the
fleece;
And from the Attic mountain-tops ye saw the dawn
uprise,
Her feet upon the golden sea and wonder in her eyes.
Ye heard the shepherd pipe at dawn, and piped again
with him
Until the flocks came winding out where forest glades
were dim;
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Ye
sang in dewy dell and woke the wild-flower from
its dream,
And watched the fauns and satyrs dance beside the
woodland stream.
[Page 46]
Ye sang your songs at noonday when Athenian crews
went down
Between the dusty walls that joined Peiraeus with
the town,
Until across the sparkling deep the triremes sailed
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And
up Poseidon’s altar-steps the women went to
pray.
Ye sang your songs at eventide when on the sacred
hill
The light was slowly dying down and mists were sleeping
still;
While two by two the maidens went, with lilies in
their hand,
And asked each other of the love they could not
understand. |
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And
in the night, when stars looked down and herds were
gathered
in,
And little brooks with tinkling voice made music
clear and thin,
At intervals your note again would thrill the forest’s
rest,
When dreamland fancies woke your joy or breezes
stirred your nest.
O singing birds, O singing birds, who pipe in shade
and sun,
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Ye
fill the world with gladness still, ye bind us all
in one;
Your songs are of untroubled days, of mornings glad
and free,
And merry rivers leaping down the mountains to the
sea.
[Page 47]
O singing birds, O singing birds, the ages pass
away,
The world is growing old, and we grow older day
by day;
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Pour
out your deathless songs again to men of every tongue,
And wake the music in man’s heart that keeps
the old world young.
[Page
48]
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