Southward with fleet of ice

Wild and gast blew the blast,And the east-wind was his breath.His lordly ships of iceGlisten in the sun;On each side, like pennons wide,Flashing crystal streamlets run.His sails of white sea-mistDripped with silver rain;But where he passed there were castLeaden shadows o’er the main.Eastward from CampobelloSir Humphrey Gilbert sailed;Three days or more seaward he bore,Then, alas!…

Full of wrath was Hiawatha

Found the people in confusion,Heard of all the misdemeanors,All the malice and the mischief,Of the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis.Hard his breath came through his nostrils,Through his teeth he buzzed and mutteredWords of anger and resentment,Hot and humming, like a hornet.‘I will slay this Pau-Puk-Keewis,Slay this mischief-maker!’ said he.‘Not so long and wide the world is,Not so rude…

O curfew of the setting sun! O Bells of Lynn!

From the dark belfries of yon cloud-cathedral wafted,Your sounds aerial seem to float, O Bells of Lynn!Borne on the evening wind across the crimson twilight,O’er land and sea they rise and fall, O Bells of Lynn!The fisherman in his boat, far out beyond the headland,Listens, and leisurely rows ashore, O Bells of Lynn!Over the shining…

Night rests in beauty on Mont Alto.

In vallombrosa’s bosom, and dark treesBend with a calm and quiet shadow downUpon the beauty of that silent river.Still in the west a melancholy smileMantles the lips of day, and twilight paleMoves like a spectre in the dusky sky,While eve’s sweet star on the fast-fading yearSmiles calmly. Music steals at intervalsAcross the water, with a…

Into the Silent Land!

Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather,And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand.Who leads us with a gentle handThither, O thither,Into the Silent Land?Into the Silent Land!To you, ye boundless regionsOf all perfection! Tender morning-visionsOf beauteous souls! The Future’s pledge and band!Who in Life’s battle firm doth stand,Shall bear Hope’s tender blossomsInto the…

It is the Harvest Moon! On gilded vanes

And their aerial neighborhoods of nestsDeserted, on the curtained window-panesOf rooms where children sleep, on country lanesAnd harvest-fields, its mystic splendor rests!Gone are the birds that were our summer guests,With the last sheaves return the laboring wains!All things are symbols: the external showsOf Nature have their image in the mind,As flowers and fruits and falling…