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ancient timepiece Annie of Tharaw autumn beautiful beheld BELFRY OF BRUGES bells Beneath birds breathed bridge burgomaster CARILLON chanting Charlemagne chimes choir church of sainted cloud dark death door dost dream drifting earth fell to earth Flanders Fleece of Gold footsteps Foresters forever forevermore Ghent Gleam golden Guy de Dampierre hand Hans Sachs hear heart heaven hemlock tree holy king of France land light loud lyre maiden fair Mastersingers Maximilian meadow brook mighty Minnesingers Minnewater monk Namur nest never night numbers Nuremberg o'er old Flemish city old Silenus once poem poet poet's quaint old Flemish rain restless RESTLESS HEART rhymes river roar round sainted Sebald sang sculpture seaweed shadows silent silver bells Sleep slumbered song sorrow soul sound stands stars sweet thee Thou art thought toil tower town of Bruges Twelve Apostles Twelve Wise Masters village VOGELWEID voice wandering Wassail wild window yore Youth
Page 131 - THOUGH the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small ; Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all.
Page 25 - The tumult of each sacked and burning village; The shout that every prayer for mercy drowns; The soldiers' revels in the midst of pillage; The wail of famine in beleaguered towns; The bursting shell, the gateway wrenched asunder, The rattling musketry, the clashing blade; And ever and anon, in tones of thunder, The diapason of the cannonade. Is it, O man, with such discordant noises, With such accursed instruments as these, Thou drownest Nature's sweet and kindly voices, And jarrest the celestial...
Page 100 - All are scattered now and fled, Some are married, some are dead ; And when I ask. with throbs of pain, •' Ah ! when shall they all meet again ?" As in the days long since gone by, The ancient timepiece makes reply, — " Forever — never ! Never — forever !
Page 99 - His great fires up the chimney roared ; The stranger feasted at his board; But, like the skeleton at the feast. That warning timepiece never ceased, — "Forever — never ! Never — forever !" *> There groups of merry children played.
Page 40 - How beautiful is the rain ! After the dust and heat, In the broad and fiery street, In the narrow lane, How beautiful is the rain ! How it clatters along the roofs, Like the tramp of hoofs ! How it gushes and struggles out From the throat of the overflowing spout ! Across the window-pane It pours and pours ; And swift and wide, With a muddy tide, Like a river down the gutter roars The rain, the welcome rain...
Page 96 - Halfway up the stairs it stands, And points and beckons with its hands From its case of massive oak, Like a monk, who, under his cloak, Crosses himself, and sighs, alas ! With sorrowful voice to all who pass, — " Forever — never ! Never — forever...
Page 28 - Rise the blue Franconian mountains, Nuremberg the ancient stands. Quaint old town of toil and traffic, quaint old town of art and song, Memories haunt thy pointed gables, like the rooks that round them throng : Memories of the Middle Ages, when the emperors, rough and bold, Had their dwelling in thy castle, time-defying, centuries old ; And thy brave and thrifty burghers boasted, in their uncouth rhyme, That their great imperial city stretched its hand through every clime.
Page 42 - Near at hand, From under the sheltering trees, The farmer sees His pastures, and his fields of grain, As they bend their tops To the numberless beating drops Of the incessant rain.
Page 102 - I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where ; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song ? Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke ; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend.
Page 80 - And nights devoid of ease, Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies. Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer. Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice. And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares, that infest the day, Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.