James Russell Lowell (Джеймс Расселл Лоуэлл)

A Feeling

    The flowers and the grass to me
  Are eloquent reproachfully;
  For would they wave so pleasantly
  Or look so fresh and fair,
  If a man, cunning, hollow, mean,
  Or one in anywise unclean,
  Were looking on them there?

    No; he hath grown so foolish-wise
  He cannot see with childhood's eyes;
  He hath forgot that purity
  And lowliness which are the key
  Of Nature's mysteries;
  No; he hath wandered off so long
  From his own place of birth,
  That he hath lost his mother-tongue,
  And, like one come from far-off lands,
  Forgetting and forgot, he stands
  Beside his mother's hearth.

1. Fancies about a Rosebud, Pressed in an Old Copy of Spenser
2. Sayest Thou, Most Beautiful, That Thou Wilt Wear
3. “No More But So?”
4. The Lover
5. Fourth of July Ode

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