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Instead of answering cannon comes a small
White flag; the iron gates are open flung,
The city's conquerors feast their foes among,
LISTENING TO MUSIC.
W HEN on that joyful sea
W Where billow on billow breaks; where swift waves follow Waves, and hollow calls to hollow; Where sea-birds swirl and swing, And winds through the rigging shrill and sing; Where night is one vast starless shade; Where thy soul not afraid, Though all alone unlonely, Wanders and wavers, wavers wandering:On that accursed sea One moment only, Forget one moment, Love, thy fierce content; Back let thy soul be bentThink back, dear Love, O Love, think back to me!
“I COUNT MY TIME BY TIMES THAT I MEET THEE.”
T COUNT my time by times that I meet thee;
These are my yesterdays, my morrows, noons
Slow fly the hours, or fast the hours do flee,
If thou art far, the birds' tunes are no tunes;
Darkness is light, and sorrow cannot be.
The air I breathe, the world wherein I dwell;
Thou art my heaven and thou art my hell;
TN the hall of the king the loud mocking of many at one;
Can it be it is they who make merry, 'tis they taunting him?
All that in them is best is from him; all they know he has taught; But one secret he never could teach, and they never have caught,The soul of his songs, that goes sighing like wind through the reeds, And thrills men, and moves them to terror, to prayer, and to deeds.
Has the old poet failed, then,—the singer forgotten his part ?
Ah, never again shall we hear such fierce music and sweet,
But a sound like the voice of the pine, like the roar of the sea
And now as he chants those who listen turn pale—are afraid;
And he sings of the time that shall be when the earth is grown old, Of the day when the sun shall be withered, and shrunken, and cold; When the stars, and the moon, and the sun,—all their glory o’erpast, Like apples that shrivel and rot, shall drop into the Vast.
And onward and out soars his song on its journey sublime,
This one theme: that whate'er be the fate that has hurt us or joyed,
One thought, and one law, and one awful and infinite power;
The laughter of children, and roar of the lion untamed;
But sudden a silence has fallen, the music has fled;
THE CELESTIAL PASSION.
WHITE and midnight sky, O starry bath,
Wash me in thy pure, heavenly, crystal flood;
Let not one taint remain in spirit or blood!
Touch and baptize me with the mighty power
Silence each tone that with thy music jars;
Fill me even as an urn with thy white fire
Make me thy child, thou infinite, holy night, -
A CHRISTMAS HYMN.
TELL me what is this innumerable throng
These are they who come with swift and shining feet
Oh, who are these that hasten beneath the starry sky-
The faithful shepherds these, who greatly were afeared
Who are these that follow across the hills of night
Three wise men from the East who myrrh and treasure bring
What babe new-born is this that in a manger cries ?
Oh, see the air is shaken with white and heavenly wings-