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which
rendered to their toil
Hay, corn,
roots, hemp, flax, apples, wool and wood.
Each of these landlords walked amidst his
farm,
Saying, "'Tis mine, my
children's and my name's.
How sweet
the west wind sounds in my own trees!
How graceful climb those shadows on my hill!
I fancy these pure waters and the
flags
Know me, as does my dog: we
sympathize;
And, I affirm, my
actions smack of the soil.'
Where are these men? Asleep beneath their
grounds:
And strangers, fond as
they, their furrows plough.
Earth
laughs in flowers, to see her boastful boys
Earth-proud, proud of the earth which is not
theirs;
Who steer the plough, but
cannot steer their feet
Clear of the
grave.
They added ridge to valley,
brook to pond,
And sighed for all
that bounded their domain;
'This
suits me for a pasture; that's my park;
We must have clay, lime, gravel,
granite-ledge,
And misty lowland,
where to go for peat.
The land is
well,--lies fairly to the south.
'Tis good, when you have crossed the sea and
back,
To find the sitfast acres
where you left them.'
Ah! the hot
owner sees not Death, who adds
Him
to his land, a lump of mould the more.
Hear what the Earth says:--
Earth-Song
'Mine and yours;
Mine, not yours,
Earth endures;
Stars abide--
Shine down in the old sea;
Old are the shores;
But where are old men?
I who have seen much,
Such have I never seen.
'The lawyer's deed
Ran sure,
In tail,
To
them, and to their heirs
Who
shall succeed,
Without
fail,
Forevermore.
'Here is the land,
Shaggy with wood,
With its old valley,
Mound and flood.
"But the heritors?--
Fled like the flood's foam.
The lawyer, and the laws,
And the kingdom,
Clean swept herefrom.
'They called me theirs,
Who so controlled me;
Yet every one
Wished to stay, and is gone,
How am I theirs,
If they cannot hold me,
But I hold
them?'
When
I was no longer brave;
My avarice cooled
Like lust in the chill of the grave.
1846
 Criticism on "Hamatreya"
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