Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By HenryVan Dyke

1097 The Veery

THE MOONBEAMS over Arno’s vale in silver flood were pouring,

When first I heard the nightingale a long-lost love deploring.

So passionate, so full of pain, it sounded strange and eerie;

I longed to hear a simpler strain,—the wood-notes of the veery.

The laverock sings a bonny lay above the Scottish heather;

It sprinkles down from far away like light and love together;

He drops the golden notes to greet his brooding mate, his dearie;

I only know one song more sweet,—the vespers of the veery.

In English gardens, green and bright and full of fruity treasure,

I heard the blackbird with delight repeat his merry measure:

The ballad was a pleasant one, the tune was loud and cheery,

And yet, with every setting sun, I listened for the veery.

But far away, and far away, the tawny thrush is singing;

New England woods, at close of day, with that clear chant are ringing:

And when my light of life is low, and heart and flesh are weary,

I fain would hear, before I go, the wood-notes of the veery.