Here is a characteristic touch:--

"A woodland walk

A quest of river-grapes, a mocking

thrush,

A wild rose, or rock-loving columbine,

Salve my worst wounds."

That "rock-loving columbine" is better than Bryant's "columbines,

in purple dressed," as our flower is not purple, but yellow and

scarlet. Yet Bryant set the example to the poets that have

succeeded him of closely studying Nature as she appears under our

own skies.

I yield to none in my admiration of the sweetness and simplicity of

his poems of nature, and in general of their correctness of

observation. They are tender and heartfelt, and they touch chords

that no other poet since Wordsworth has touched with so firm a

hand. Yet he was not always an infallible observer; he sometimes

tripped up on his facts, and at other times he deliberately moulded

them, adding to, or cutting off, to suit the purposes of his verse.

I will cite here two instances in which his natural history is at

fault. In his poem on the bobolink he makes the parent birds feed

their young with "seeds," whereas, in fact, the young are fed

exclusively upon insects and worms. The bobolink is an

insectivorous bird in the North, or until its brood has flown, and

a granivorous bird in the South. In his "Evening Revery" occur

these lines:--

"The mother bird hath broken for her

brood

Their prison shells, or shoved them

from the nest,

Plumed for their earliest flight."

It is not a fact that the mother bird aids her offspring in

escaping from the shell. The young of all birds are armed with a

small temporary horn or protuberance upon the upper mandible, and

they are so placed in the shell that this point is in immediate

contact with its inner surface; as soon as they are fully developed

and begin to struggle to free themselves, the horny growth "pips"

the shell. Their efforts then continue till their prison walls are

completely sundered and the bird is free. This process is rendered

the more easy by the fact that toward the last the shell becomes

very rotten; the acids that are generated by the growing chick eat

it and make it brittle, so that one can hardly touch a fully

incubated bird's egg without breaking it. To help the young bird

forth would insure its speedy death. It is not true, either, that

the parent shoves its young from the nest when they are fully

fledged, except possibly in the case of some of the swallows and of

the eagle. The young of all our more common birds leave the nest

of their own motion, stimulated probably by the calls of the

parents, and in some cases by the withholding of food for a longer

period than usual.

As an instance where Bryant warps the facts to suit his purpose,

take his poems of the "Yellow Violet" and "The Fringed Gentian." Of

this last flower he says:--

"Thou waitest late and com'st alone,

When woods are bare and birds are

flown,

And frosts and shortening days

portend

The aged year is near his end."

The fringed gentian belongs to September, and, when the severer

frosts keep away, it runs over into October. But it does not come

alone, and the woods are not bare. The closed gentian comes at the

same time, and the blue and purple asters are in all their glory.

Goldenrod, turtle-head, and other fall flowers also abound. When

the woods are bare, which does not occur in New England till in or

near November, the fringed gentian has long been dead. It is in

fact killed by the first considerable frost. No, if one were to go

botanizing, and take Bryant's poem for a guide, he would not bring

home any fringed gentians with him. The only flower he would find

would be the witch-hazel. Yet I never see this gentian without

thinking of Bryant's poem, and feeling that he has brought it

immensely nearer to us.

Bryant's poem of the "Yellow Violet" has all his accustomed

simplicity and pensiveness, but his love for the flower carries him

a little beyond the facts; he makes it sweet-scented,--

"Thy faint perfume

Alone is in the virgin air;"

and he makes it the first flower of spring. I have never been able

to detect any perfume in the yellow species (VIOLA ROTUNDIFOLIA).

This honor belongs alone to our two white violets, VIOLA BLANDA and

VIOLA CANADENSIS.

The Writings of John Burroughs — Volume 05: Pepacton · 第 16 / 60 题