« ПредишнаНапред »
And again the wild alarum sounded from the tocsin's throat;
Till the bell of Ghent responded o'er lagoon and dike of sand,
"I am Roland! I am Roland! there is victory in the land!"
Then the sound of drums aroused me. The awakened city's roar
Chased the phantoms I had summoned back into their graves once more.
Hours had passed away like minutes; and, before I was aware,
Lo! the shadow of the belfry crossed the sunillumined square.
SOMETHING LEFT UNDONE.
LABOR with what zeal we will,
Something still remains undone,
Something uncompleted still
Waits the rising of the sun.
By the bedside, on the stair,
Waits, and will not go away;
Each to-day is heavier made;
Till at length the burden seems
And we stand from day to day.
Who, as Northern legends say,
On their shoulders held the sky.
MAIDEN! with the meek, brown eyes,
In whose orbs a shadow lies
Like the dusk in evening skies!
Standing, with reluctant feet,
Gazing, with a timid glance,
Deep and still, that gliding stream
Then why pause with indecision,
Seest thou shadows sailing by,
Hearest thou voices on the shore,
O, thou child of many prayers!
Like the swell of some sweet tune,
May glides onward into June.
Childhood is the bough, where slumbered Birds and blossoms many-numbered;— Age, the bough with snows encumbered.
Gather, then, each flower that grows,
Bear a lily in thy hand;
Gates of brass cannot withstand
One touch of that magic wand.
Bear through sorrow, wrong and ruth,
On thy lips the smile of truth.
O, that dew, like balm, shall steal
And that smile, like sunshine, dart
For a smile of God thou art.