The First Snow-fall
From The First Snow-fall by James Russell Lowell

The snow had begun in the gloaming,
   And busily all the night
Had been heaping field and highway
   With a silence deep and white.

Every pine and fir and hemlock
   Wore ermine too dear for an earl,
And the poorest twig on the elm-tree
   Was ridged inch deep with pearl.

A Day in June
From The Vision of Sir Launfal by James Russell Lowell

And what is so rare as a day in June?
   Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then heaven tries earth if it be in tune,
   And over it softly her warm ear lays;
Whether we look, or whether we listen,
   We hear life murmur, or see it glisten;
Every clod feels a stir of might,
   An instinct within it that reaches and towers,
And, groping blindly above it for light,
   Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers.

To the Dandelion
From To the Dandelion by James Russell Lowell
 
   Dear common flower, that grow’st beside the way,
Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold,
        First pledge of blithesome May,
Which children pluck, and, full of pride, uphold,
   High-hearted buccaneers, o’erjoyed that they
An Eldorado in the grass have found,
Which not the rich earth’s ample round
   May match in wealth, thou art more dear to me
   Than all the prouder summer blooms may be.

   My childhood’s earliest thoughts are linked with thee;
The sight of thee calls back the robin’s song,
        Who, from the dark old tree
Beside the door, sang clearly all day long,
   And I, secure in childish piety,
Listened as if I heard an angel sing
With news from heaven, which he could bring
   Fresh every day to my untainted ears
   When the birds and flowers and I were happy peers. 

"Remembered Music" by James Russell Lowell

Thick-Rushing, like an ocean
Of bison the far prairie shaking,
The notes crowd heavily and fast
As surfs, one plunging while the last
Draws seaweed from its foamy breaking.

Or in low murmurs they began,
Rising and rising momently,
As o'er a harp Eolian
A fitful breeze, until they ran
Up to a sudden ecstasy.

And them, like minute-drop of rain
Ringing in water silverly,
They lingering dropped and dropped again,
Till it was almost like a pain
To listen when the next would be.    

The Singing Leaves
From The Singing Leaves by James Russell Lowell

“What fairings will ye that I bring?”
     Said the King to his daughters three;
“For I to Vanity am bound,
     Now say what shall they be?”

  Then up and spake the eldest daughter
      That lady tall and grand:
“Oh, bring me pearls and diamonds great,
      And gold rings for my hand.”

  Thereafter spake the second daughter,
       That was both white and red:
“For me bring silks that will stand alone,
       And a gold comb for my head.”

  Then came the turn of the least daughter,
        That was whiter than thistle-down,
  And among the gold of her blithesome hair
        Dim shone the golden crown.

“There came a bird this morning,
        And sang ‘neath my bower eaves,
 Till I dreamed, as his music made me,
       ‘Ask thou for the Singing Leaves.’”

Then the brow of the King swelled crimson
        With a flush of angry scorn:
“Well have ye spoken, my two eldest,
         And chosen as ye were born;

“But she, like a thing of peasant race,
        That is happy binding the sheaves;”
Then he saw her dear mother in her face,
        And said, “Thou shalt have thy leaves.”

                        II
He mounted and rode three days and nights,
        Till he came to Vanity Fair,
And ‘twas easy to buy the gems and the silk,
        But no Singing Leaves were there.

Then deep in the greenwood rode he,
        And asked of every tree,
“Oh, if you have ever a Singing Leaf,
        I pray you give it to me!”

But the tress all kept their counsel,
        And never a word said they,
Only there sighed from the pine-tops
        A music of seas far away.

Only the pattering aspen
        Made a sound of growing rain,
That fell even faster and faster,
        Than faltered to silence again.

“Oh, where shall I find a little footpage
        That would win both hose and shoon,
And will bring to me the Singing Leaves
        If they grow under the moon?”

Then lightly turned him Walter the page,
        By the stirrup as he ran:
“Now pledge you me the truesome word
        Of a king and gentleman,

“That you will give me the first, first thing
        You meet at your castle-gate,
And the Princess will get the Singing Leaves,
        Or mine be a traitor’s fate.”

The King’s head dropt upon his breast
        A moment, as it might be;
‘Twill be my dog, he thought, and said,
        “My faith I plight to thee.”

Then Walter took from next his heart
        A packet small and thin,
“Now give you this to the Princess Anne,
        The Singing Leaves are therein.”

                        III
As the King rode in at his castle-gate,
        A maiden to meet him ran,
And “Welcome, father!” she laughed and cried
        Together, the Princess Anne.

“Lo, here the Singing Leaves,” quoth he,
        “And woe, but they cost me dear!”
She took the packet, and the smile
        Deepened down beneath the tear.

It deepened down till it reached her heart,
        And then gushed up again,
And lighted her tears as the sudden sun
       Transfigures the summer rain.

And the first Leaf, when it was opened,
       Sang: “I am Walter the page,
And the songs I sing ‘neath thy window
        Are my only heritage.”

And the second Leaf sang: “But in the land
        That is neither on earth nor sea,
My lute and I are lords of more
        Than thrice this kingdom’s fee.”

And the third Leaf sang, “Be mine! Be mine!”
        And ever it sang, “Be mine!”
Then sweeter it sang and ever sweeter,
        And said, “I am thine, thine, thine!”

At the first Leaf she grew pale enough,
        At the second she turned aside,
At the third, ‘twas as if a lily flushed
        With a rose’s red heart’s tide.

“Good counsel gave the bird,” said she,
        “I have my hope thrice o’er,
For they sing to my very heart,” she said,
        “And it sings to them evermore.”

She brought to him her beauty and truth,
        But and broad earldoms three,
And he made her queen of the broader lands
        He held of his lute in fee.  

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