Produced by Patricia Peters, Tonya Allen, and Project

Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders

SONGS OUT OF DOORS

BY
HENRY VAN DYKE

1923

CONTENTS

I

OF BIRDS AND FLOWERS

  The Veery
  The Song-Sparrow
  The Maryland Yellow-Throat
  The Whip-Poor-Will
  Wings of a Dove
  The Hermit Thrush
  Sea-Gulls of Manhattan
  The Ruby-Crowned Kinglet
  The Angler's Reveille
  A November Daisy
  The Lily of Yorrow

II

OF SKIES AND SEASONS

  If All the Skies
  The After-Echo
  Dulciora
  Matins
  The Parting and the Coming Guest
  When Tulips Bloom
  Spring in the North
  Spring in the South
  How Spring Comes to Shasta Jim
  The First Bird o' Spring
  A Bunch of Trout-Flies
  A Noon-Song
  Turn o' the Tide
  Sierra Madre
  School
  Indian Summer
  Light between the Trees
  The Fall of the Leaves
  Three Alpine Sonnets
  A Snow-Song
  Roslin and Hawthornden
  The Heavenly Hills of Holland
  Flood-Tide of Flowers
  Salute to the Trees

III

OF THE UNFAILING LIGHT

  The Grand Canyon
  God of the Open Air

IV

WAYFARING PSALMS IN PALESTINE

  The Distant Road
  The Welcome Tent
  The Great Cities
  The Friendly Trees
  The Pathway of Rivers
  The Glory of Ruins
  The Tribe of the Helpers
  The Good Teacher
  The Camp-Fires of My Friend

I

OF BIRDS AND FLOWERS

THE VEERY

  The moonbeams over Arno's vale in silver flood were pouring,
  When first I heard the nightingale a long-lost love deploring.
  So passionate, so full of pain, it sounded strange and eerie;
  I longed to hear a simpler strain,—the woodnotes of the veery.

  The laverock sings a bonny lay above the Scottish heather;
  It sprinkles down from far away like light and love together;
  He drops the golden notes to greet his brooding mate, his dearie;
  I only know one song more sweet,—the vespers of the veery.

  In English gardens, green and bright and full of fruity treasure,
  I heard the blackbird with delight repeat his merry measure:
  The ballad was a pleasant one, the tune was loud and cheery,
  And yet, with every setting sun, I listened for the veery.

  But far away, and far away, the tawny thrush is singing;
  New England woods, at close of day, with that clear chant are ringing:
  And when my light of life is low, and heart and flesh are weary,
  I fain would hear, before I go, the wood-notes of the veery.

1895.

THE SONG-SPARROW

  There is a bird I know so well,
    It seems as if he must have sung
    Beside my crib when I was young;
  Before I knew the way to spell
    The name of even the smallest bird,
    His gentle-joyful song I heard.
  Now see if you can tell, my dear,
  What bird it is t

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