The Bird & the Bell: With Other Poems

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Houghton, 1890 - 317 pages
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Page 44 - Or upward curled and soared. And all the night those sheets of white Gleamed through the spectral mist, When o'er the isle the broad moonlight The wintry foam-flakes kissed. Mirrored within my dreamy thought, I see it, feel it all, — That island with sweet visions fraught, That awful waterfall. With sunflecked trees, and birds and flowers, The Isle of Life is fair; But one deep voice thrills through its hours, One spectral form is there, — A power no mortal can resist, Rolling forever on, —...
Page 120 - When Nature had made all her birds, With no more cares to think on, She gave a rippling laugh, and out There flew a Bobolinkon. She laughed again; out flew a mate; A breeze of Eden bore them Across the fields of Paradise, The sunrise reddening o'er them. Incarnate sport and holiday, They flew and sang forever; Their souls through June were all in tune, Their wings were weary never. Their tribe, still drunk with...
Page 147 - Christ? 18 (For he knew that for envy they had delivered him.) 19 When he was set down on the judgment-seat, his wife sent unto him, saying, Have thou nothing to do with that just man : for I have suffered many things this day iu a dream, because of him.
Page 161 - Reflecting the noble intent Thou hast in forming thy creatures; Waking from sense into life of the soul, and the image of thee; Working with thee in thy work to model humanity's features Into the likeness of God, myself from myself I would free. One with all human existence, no one above or below me; Lit by Thy wisdom and love, as roses are steeped in the...
Page 245 - Nor this alone; New England knows A deeper meaning in the pride Whose stately architecture shows How Harvard's children fought and died. Therefore this hallowed pile recalls The heroes, young and true and brave, Who gave their memories to these walls, Their lives to fill the soldier's grave. The farmer, as he drives his team To market in the morn, afar Beholds the golden sunrise gleam Upon thee, like a glistening star. And gazing, he remembers well Why stands yon tower so fair and tall.
Page 193 - So, on the appointed day — both innocent As babes, of course — these honest fellows went, And took their distant station ; and Ching said, " I can read plainly, ' To the illustrious dead, The chief of mandarins, the great Goh-Bang.' " "And is that all that you can spell?" said Chang; " I see what you have read, but furthermore, In smaller letters, toward the temple door, Quite plain, — ' This tablet is erected here By those to whom the great Goh-Bang was dear.
Page 192 - Two young, near-sighted fellows, Chang and Ching, Over their chopsticks idly chattering, Fell to disputing which could see the best ; At last, they agreed to put it to the test. Said Chang, " A marble tablet, so I hear, Is placed upon the Bo-hee temple near, With an inscription on it. Let us go And read it (since you boast your optics so), Standing together at a certain place In front, where we the letters just may trace ; Then he who quickest reads the inscription there, The palm for keenest eyes...
Page 217 - And some mere busts, whose names are hardly known ; Dii minores of a voiceless past. Time was when many there so neatly niched Held each within his court a sovereign sway ; Each in his turn his little world enriched, The ephemeral poet-laureate 'of his day. Ah, what is fame ? Star after star goes out, — Lost Pleiads in the firmament of truth ; Our kings discrowned ere died the distant shout That hailed the coronation of their youth.
Page 205 - T ain't true, sir," says she. And she snapped a big pod, Till the peas, right and left, flew all over the sod. Then I looked in her eyes, but she only looked down With a blush that she tried to chase off with a frown. " Then it 's somebody else you like better," says I. " No, it ain't though," says she ; and I thought she would cry.
Page 123 - White in the pale-blue distance, I hear the saucy minstrels still In chattering persistence. When Eve her domes of opal fire Piles round the blue horizon; Or thunder rolls from hill to hill A Kyrie Eleison, — Still, merriest of the merry birds. Your sparkle is unfading, — Pied harlequins of June, no end Of song and masquerading. What cadences of bubbling mirth Too quick for bar...

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