No, the bugle sounds no more,
And the twanging bow no more;
Silent is the ivory shrill

Past the heath and up the hill;
There is no mid-forest laugh,
Where lone Echo gives the half
To some wight, amazed to hear
Jesting deep in forest drear.

On the fairest time of June You may go, with sun or moon, Or the seven stars to light you, Or the polar ray to right you; But you never may behold Little John, or Robin bold; Never one, of all the clan, Thrumming on an empty can Some old hunting ditty, while He doth his green way beguile To fair hostess Merriment, Down beside the pasture Trent; For he left the merry tale Messenger for spicy ale.

Gone, the merry morris din; Gone, the song of Gamelyn; Gone, the tough-belted outlaw Idling in the "grenè shawe"; All are gone away and past! And if Robin should be cast

Sudden from his turfèd grave,
And if Marian should have
Once again her forest days,

She would weep, and he would craze:
He would swear, for all his oaks,
Fall'n beneath the dockyard strokes,
Have rotted on the briny seas;
She would weep that her wild bees
Sang not to her-strange! that honey
Can't be got without hard money!

So it is: yet let us sing,
Honor to the old bow string
Honor to the bugle horn!
Honor to the woods unshorn!
Honor to the Lincoln green!
Honor to the archer keen!
Honor to tight Little John,
And the horse he rode upon!
Honor to bold Robin Hood,
Sleeping in the underwood!
Honor to Maid Marian,

And to all the Sherwood clan!
Though their days have hurried by
Let us two a burden try.

GLOSSARY. Ivory shrill; polar ray; ditty; Trent; morris; Gamelyn; "grenè shawe"; Marian; tight; burden.

STUDY. What are "those days" that "are gone away"? Observe that by mentioning what is no more the poet builds up the scene of what was. Does he make the outlaw life seem

very fine and attractive? Mention some of the things that the speaker regrets the loss of in modern life. Suppose Robin Hood and Maid Marian could come back to life, how would they be affected by the changes? What word in the last stanza, many times repeated, gives the key to the song? Explain lines 10, 13, 47, and 48.

CONTENTMENT

"Man wants but little here below"

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES

Little I ask; my wants are few;
I only wish a hut of stone,
(A very plain brownstone will do),
That I may call my own;

And close at hand is such a one,
In yonder street that fronts the sun.

Plain food is quite enough for me;

Three courses are as good as ten;-
If Nature can subsist on three,

Thank Heaven for three. Amen!
I always thought cold victual nice;—
My choice would be vanilla ice.

I care not much for gold or land;

Give me a mortgage here and there,-
Some good bank stock, some note of hand,
Or trifling railroad share,—

I only ask that Fortune send

A little more than I shall spend.

10

15

Honors are silly toys, I know,
And titles are but empty names:
I would, perhaps, be Plenipo,
But only near St. James;
I'm very sure I should not care
To fill our Gubernator's chair.

Jewels are baubles; 'tis a sin

To care for such unfruitful things;-
One good-sized diamond in a pin,-
Some, not so large, in rings,-
A ruby, and a pearl, or so,

Will do for me;—I laugh at show.

My dame should dress in cheap attire;
(Good, heavy silks are never dear);—
I own perhaps I might desire

Some shawls of true Cashmere,-
Some marrowy crapes of China silk,
Like wrinkled skins on scalded milk.

I would not have the horse I drive

So fast that folks must stop and stare; An easy gait-two, forty-five

Suits me; I do not care;

Perhaps, for just a single spurt,
Some seconds less would do no hurt.

Of pictures, I should like to own

Titians and Raphaels three or four,

I love so much their style and tone,
One Turner, and no more,

(A landscape, foreground golden dirt,-
The sunshine painted with a squirt).

Of books but few,-some fifty score
For daily use, and bound for wear;
The rest upon an upper floor;-

Some little luxury there
Of red morocco's gilded gleam,

And vellum rich as country cream.

45

60

Busts, cameos, gems,-such things as these,
Which others often show for pride,

55

I value for their power to please,

And selfish churls deride;-.

One Stradivarius, I confess,

Two meerschaums, I would fain possess.

Wealth's wasteful tricks I will not learn,
Nor ape the glittering upstart fool;—
Shall not carved tables serve my turn,
But all must be of buhl?

Give grasping pomp its double share,—
I ask but one recumbent chair.

Thus humble let me live and die,
Nor long for Midas' golden touch;
If Heaven more generous gifts deny,
I shall not miss them much,-