Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889
The First Cricket
By William Dean Howells (18371920)A
And that so soon must remain nothing but lapse and decay,—
Earliest cricket, that out of the midsummer midnight complaining,
All the faint summer in me takest with subtle dismay?
Though no tree for its leaves, doomed of thy voice, maketh moan,
Yet with th’ unconscious earth’s boded evil my soul thou dost cumber,
And in the year’s lost youth makest me still lose my own.
And when the fervid grate feigns me a May in my room,
And by my hearthstone gay, as now sad in my garden, thou creakest,—
Thou wilt again give me all,—dew and fragrance and bloom?
If I but take him down out of his place on my shelf,
Me blither lays to sing than the blithest known to thy shrilling,
Full of the rapture of life, May, morn, hope, and—himself:
Lures back the bee to his feast, calls back the bird to his tree.
Hast thou no art can make me believe, while the summer yet lingers,
Better than bloom that has been red leaf and sere that must be?