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Henry Van Dyke
OF BIRDS AND FLOWERS The VeeryThe Song-SparrowThe Maryland Yellow-ThroatThe Whip-Poor-WillWings of a DoveThe Hermit ThrushSea-Gulls of ManhattanThe Ruby-Crowned KingletThe Angler's ReveilleA November DaisyThe Lily of Yorrow II OF SKIES AND SEASONS If All the SkiesThe After-EchoDulcioraMatinsThe Parting and the Coming GuestWhen Tulips BloomSpring in the NorthSpring in the SouthHow Spring Comes to...
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Henry Van Dyke
FISHERMAN'S LUCK Has it ever fallen in your way to notice the quality of the greetings that belong to certain occupations? There is something about these salutations in kind which is singularly taking and grateful to the ear. They are as much better than an ordinary "good day" or a flat "how are you?" as a folk-song of Scotland or the Tyrol is better than the futile love-ditty of...
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Henry Van Dyke
PREFACE There is a chain of little lakes—a necklace of lost jewels—lying in the forest that clothes the blue Laurentian Mountains in the Province of Quebec. Each of these hidden lakes has its own character and therefore its own charm. One is bright and friendly, with wooded hills around it, and silver beaches, and red berries of the rowan-tree fringing the shores. Another is sombre and lonely, set...
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Henry Van Dyke
There was an air of calm and reserved opulence about the Weightman mansion that spoke not of money squandered, but of wealth prudently applied. Standing on a corner of the Avenue no longer fashionable for residence, it looked upon the swelling tide of business with an expression of complacency and half-disdain. The house was not beautiful. There was nothing in its straight front of chocolate-colored...
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Henry Van Dyke
I He entered the backwoods village of Bytown literally on the wings of the wind. It whirled him along like a big snowflake, and dropped him at the door of Moody's "Sportsmen's Retreat," as if he were a New Year's gift from the North Pole. His coming seemed a mere chance; but perhaps there was something more in it, after all. At all events, you shall hear, if you will, the time...
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Henry Van Dyke
THE RED FLOWER June 1914 In the pleasant time of Pentecost, By the little river Kyll,I followed the angler's winding path Or waded the stream at will.And the friendly fertile German land Lay round me green and still. But all day long on the eastern bank Of the river cool and clear,Where the curving track of the double rails Was hardly seen though near,The endless trains of German...
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