ROBERT BURNS WILSON
[Robert Burns Wilson was born in Washington County, Pennsyl vania, in 1850. Early in life he became a resident of Frankfort, Kentucky. In addition to writing poetry he has studied painting and exhibited his pictures with great success. During the later years of his life his home was chiefly in New York, where he died in 1916.]
TO A CROW
Bold, amiable, ebon outlaw, grave and wise! For many a good green year hast thou withstood By dangerous, planted field and haunted wood All the devices of thine enemies, Gleaning thy grudged breath with watchful eyes And self-relying soul. Come ill or good, Blithe days thou see st, thou feather Robin Hood! Thou mak st a jest of farm-land boundaries. Take all thou may st, and never count it crime To rob the greatest robber of the earth, Weak-visioned, dull, self-lauding man, whose worth Is in his own esteem. Bide thou thy time; Thou know st far more of Nature s lore than he, And her wide lap shall still provide for thee.
BALLAD OF THE FADED FIELD
Broad bars of sunset-slanted gold Are laid along the field, and here The silence sings, as if some old Refrain, that once rang long and clear Came softly, stealing to the ear Without the aid of sound. The rill Is voiceless, and the grass is sere, But beauty s soul abideth still.
