INTRODUCTION
Love the sunshine and the meadow
Love the shadow of the forest,
Love the wind among the branches,
And the rain shower and the snow storm,
And the rushing of green rivers,
Through their palisades and pine trees,
And the thunder in the mountains,
Whose innumerable echoes
Flap like eagles in their eyries: Listen!"
—Longfellow.
In accordance with the above adjuration, so captivating to those to whom the apostrophe is addressed the almoner who subscribes himself herewith, at once opens out this new and effervescing volume of poems for their perusal, bespeaking from the world of letters a sympathetic ear, and consonance with its song: for,
The Book of Nature is ever full of ecstasy and beauty. Its leaves turn toward the sun. Its music is eolean. Its fountains are pellucid and inexhaustible. From its sources we have to draw and drink refreshingly. Perchance some of those who read these stanzas—some of those who have trod the sylvan paths which Thoreau so much loved, and which Longfellow never tired of describing with his pen, may be persuaded to link arms with the blind author, and so all saunter on together?
