Around me broods the dim, mysterious Night, Star-lit and still. No whisper comes across the Plain, Asleep beneath the breezes light, Which scarcely stir the growing grain....
Tattered, in ragged raiment of the rain, The Night arrives. Outside the window there He stands and, streaming, taps upon the pane; Or, crouching down beside the cellar-stair, Letting his hat-brim drain,...
The days remember and the nights remember The kingly hours that once you made so great, Deep in my heart they lie, hidden in their splendor, Buried like sovereigns in their robes of state....
Norr'na-race's longing, It was the sea's free wave, And fight of heroes thronging, And honor that it gave; Their thoughts and deeds upspringing From roots in Surtr's fire,...
The north wind doth blow And we shall have snow, And what will poor Robin do then--poor thing? He'll sit in a barn To keep himself warm, And hide his head under his wing--poor thing!
The oak one day address'd the reed: - 'To you ungenerous indeed Has nature been, my humble friend, With weakness aye obliged to bend. The smallest bird that flits in air...
Giant Oak, in his strength & his scorn Of the winds, by the roots was uptorn: But slim Reeds at his side, The fierce gale did outride, Since, by bending the burden was borne.
My name is old Jack Palmer, I'm a man of olden days, And so I wish to sing a song To you of olden praise. To tell of merry friends of old When we were gay and young; How we sat and sang together...
The old remain, the young are gone. The farm dreams lonely on the hill: From early eve to early dawn A cry goes with the whippoorwill "The old remain, the young are gone." ...
The old sea captain has sailed the seas So long, that the waves at mirth, Or the waves gone wild, and the crests of these, Were as near playmates from birth: He has loved both the storm and the calm, because...
On proud Mount Royal's Eastern side, In view of St. Lawrence's silver tide, Are two stone towers of masonry rude, With massive doors of time-darken'd wood: Traces of loop-holes are in the walls,...
The one that could repeat the summer day Were greater than itself, though he Minutest of mankind might be. And who could reproduce the sun, At period of going down --...
Sing of the O'Rahilly, Do not deny his right; Sing a "the' before his name; Allow that he, despite All those learned historians, Established it for good; He wrote out that word himself,...
Another day that finds her living yet, Little Pompilia, with the patient brow And lamentable smile on those poor lips, And, under the white hospital-array, A flower-like body, to frighten at a bruise...
The mountains stand and stare around, They are far too proud to speak; Altho' they're rooted in the ground, Up they go, peak after peak, Beyond the tallest tree, and still Soaring over house and hill...