, 1866-07-20
Agtalla SvalIa Statesman.
TOWN AND COUNTRY

Child of the Country free as air
Art thou, and as the sunshine fair
Born, like the lily, where the dew
Lies odorous when the day is new:
Fed mid the MaysAowerS like the bee,
Nursed to sweet music on the kneei
Lulled in the breast to that sweet tune
Which winds make 'mong the woods Of Juns'
| sing Of thee tits sweet to sing
Of such. fair and gladstone thing.
Child of Town for thee sigh
A gilded roofs thy golden sky,
A carpet is thy daisied sod,
A narrow street thy boundless wood,
Thy rushing dser's the Gathering tramp
Of watchmen, thy best lights lamp;
Through smoke, and not through trellised Vlnsl
And blooming trees, thy sunbeam shines
! sing thee in sadness where
Else is wreck wrought in aught as fairf
Child of the Country thy small feet
Tread on strawberrie red and sweet
With thee wander forth to see
The flowers which most delight the beef
The bush o 'er which the throstle sung
In April while she nursed her young;
The dew beneath the sloe,thorn, where
She bred her twins the timorous harei
The knoll wrought Ger with wild blue-bellS,
Where brown bees build their balmy cells
The greenwood stream, the shady pool,
Where trouts leap when the day is COOL
The shilfa's nest that seem to be
A portion of the sheltering tree,
And other marvels which my verse
Can find no language to rehearse.
Child of the Town for thee, alas
Glad nature spreads nor flowers nor grass;
Birds build no nests, nor in the sun
Glad streams come singing as they run
A Maypole is thy blossomed tree;
A beetle is thy murmuring bee;
Thy bird is Gagged, thy dove is where
The poulterer dwells, beside the hare;
Thy fruit is plucked, and by the pound
Hawked, clamorous, o'er the city round;
No roses, twin born on the stalk
Perfume thee in thy evening walk;
No voice of birds-but to thee comes %
The mingled din of cars and drums, 20
And startling cries such as are rife
When wine and wassail waken strife.
Child of the Country on the lawn
! see thee like the bounding fawn,
Blithe as the bird which tries its wing
The first time on the wings Of Spring;
Bright as the when from the cloud
He comes as cocks are growing loud;
Now running, shouting, mid sunbeams,
Now cropping trout il lucid streams,
Now spinning like a mill-wheel round,
Now hunting Echo's empty sound,
Now climbing up some old tall tree
For climbings sake-'Tls sweet to thee
To sit where birds can sit alone,
Or share with thee thy venturous throne.
Child of the Town and bustlng street,
What woes and snares await thy feet
Thy paths are paved for FIVE long miles,
Thy groves and hills are peaks and tiles;
Thy fragrant air is yon thick smoke,
Which shrouds thee like mourning cloak;
And thou art cabined and confined
At once from sun, and dew, and wind,
Or set thy tottering feet but on
Thy heightened walks of slippery stone,
The coaehman there careering reels,
With goaded steeds and maddening wheels;
And Commerce pours each pressing son
In pelfs pursuit and halloos, I" Run p
While flushed with wine and stuug at play,
Men rush from darkness into day.
The streams too strong for thy small bark;
There nought can sail, save what is stark
Fly from the town, sweet child for health
Is happiness and strength and wealth.
There is lesson in each flower
A story in each stream and bower;
On every herb Ger which you tread
Are written words which, rightly read,
Will lead you, from earth's fragrant sod,
To hope and holiness, and God