Home  »  library  »  Song  »  Henry Ames Blood (1836–1900)

C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Henry Ames Blood (1836–1900)

From ‘Thoreau: In Memoriam’

IF I could find that little poem,

With the daintiest sort of proem,

Which the poet squirrel made

On a leaf that would not fade,

And slyly hid, one darksome night,

By the wicked glow-worm’s light!

It was all about Thoreau—

How the squirrels loved him so;

Since, whenever he went walking,

He would stop to hear them talking,—

Often smiling when they chattered,

Or their brown nuts downward pattered:

Nay, could I but find that bird

Who told me once that she had heard

Robins, wrens, and others tell

How he knew their language well,

And how he turned, a thousand times,

Birdic into English rhymes!