All down the hills of Habersham,
    All through the valleys of Hall,
  The rushes cried Abide, abide,
  The wilful waterweeds held me thrall,
  The laving laurel turned my tide,
  The ferns and the fondling grass said Stay,
  The dewberry dipped for to work delay,
  And the little reeds sighed Abide, abide
    Here in the hills of Habersham
    Here in the valleys of Hall.

    High o’er the hills of Habersham,
    Veiling the valleys of Hall,
  The hickory told me manifold
  Fair tales of shade, the poplar tall
  Wrought me her shadowy self to hold,
  The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine,
  Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign,
  Said, Pass not, so cold, these manifold
    Deep shades of the hills of Habersham,
    These glades in the valleys of Hall.

    And oft in the hills of Habersham,
    And oft in the valleys of Hall,
  The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook-stone
  Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl,
  And many a luminous jewel lone
  —­Crystals clear or acloud with mist,
  Ruby, garnet and amethyst—­
  Made lures with the lights of streaming stone
    In the clefts of the hills of Habersham,
    In the beds of the valleys of Hall.

    But oh, not the hills of Habersham,
    And oh, not the valleys of Hall
  Avail:  I am fain for to water the plain. 
  Downward the voices of Duty call—­
  Downward to toil and be mixed with the main. 
  The dry fields burn, and the mills are to turn,
  And a myriad flowers mortally yearn,
  And the lordly main from beyond the plain
    Calls o’er the hills of Habersham,
    Calls through the valleys of Hall.

S. LANIER.

[13] From “Poems of Sidney Lanier,” copyright, 1884, 1891, by Mary D. Lanier, published by Charles Scribner’s Sons.

The Sea’s Voice.

I.

  Around the rocky headlands, far and near,
    The wakened ocean murmured with dull tongue
    Till all the coast’s mysterious caverns rung
  With the waves’ voice, barbaric, hoarse, and drear. 
  Within this distant valley, with rapt ear,
    I listened, thrilled, as though a spirit sung,
    Or some gray god, as when the world was young,
  Moaned to his fellow, mad with rage or fear. 
  Thus in the dark, ere the first dawn, methought
    The sea’s deep roar and sullen surge and shock
      Broke the long silence of eternity,
  And echoed from the summits where God wrought,
    Building the world, and ploughing the steep rock
      With ploughs of ice-hills harnessed to the sea.

II.