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 War of the Dryads
By Henry Ames Blood (18361900)S
Should you travel thither,
Ask the Dryads how they dare
Quarrel thus together?
Live and love, or coo and woo,
Men with axes banding,
They will have all they can do
To keep their live-oak standing.
Rousing up the peoples:
Campaneros clang their bells
High in leafy steeples.
Swiftly speed the eager hours,
Fairy fellies rattle;
Bugle-weed and trumpet-flowers
Heralding the battle.
Barnacles and ganzas,
Quacking through the long lagoons
Military stanzas.
Red-legged choughs and screeching daws
File along the larches;
“Right!” and “Left!” the raven caws,
“Blast your countermarches!”
Come the perking swallows,
Putting on important looks,
Strutting up the hollows;
Lank, long-legged fuglemen,
Herons, cranes, and ganders,
Stride before the buglemen,
Cock-a-hoop commanders.
Apes with wild grimaces,
Shardy chafers, chattering pyes,
Bustle in their places.
“Forward!” cry the captains all,
Seeming hoarse with phthisis;
“Forward!” all the captains call,
Cocks and cockatrices.
Rain the bottle-grasses;
Hobble-bushes, bitter sloes,
Block the mountain passes.
Here and there and everywhere
Reinforcements rally,
Seeming sprung from earth and air,
From mountain top and valley.
Or the bees are plying;
Either whizzing goes the bomb,
Or the pheasant flying.
’Tis the pheasant, ’tis the bee;
Never fiercer volley
Rang upon the birken tree,
Nor whirred along the holly.
Fiery serpents jetting,
Over level roods of moss
Rabbits ricochetting;
Oh, the onset! Oh, the charge!
How the aspens quiver!
Fever-bushes on the marge
Chatter to the river.
More than man could number,
Spear-grass and arrow-wood
Turn the white air sombre.
Gentle, gentle Dryades,
You shall reap your sorrow;
More than rainy Hyades
You shall weep to-morrow.
Croaks the boding raven;
Pallid as the moonbeams go,
Three and three, the craven
Dryads, and the sun drops low.
Soon shall come strange faces,
Men with axes, to and fro,—
New peoples and new races.