It touched the wood-bird's folded wing, And said, "O bird, awake and sing." And o'er the farms, "O chanticleer, It whispered to the fields of corn, "Bow down, and hail the coming morn." It shouted through the belfry-tower, It crossed the churchyard with a sigh, THE FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY OF AGASSIZ. MAY 28, 1857. It was fifty years ago In the pleasant month of May, And Nature, the old nurse, took Saying: "Here is a story-book Thy Father has written for thee." "Come, wander with me," she said, "Into regions yet untrod; And read what is still unread In the manuscripts of God." And he wandered away and away And whenever the way seemed long, She would sing a more wonderful song, So she keeps him still a child, Though at times his heart beats wild For the beautiful Pays de Vaud; 17* |