Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50) (295 page)

BOOK: Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50)
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Then the Master,
  
340
With a gesture of command,
Waved his hand;
And at the word,
Loud and sudden there was heard,
All around them and below,
  
345
The sound of hammers, blow on blow,
Knocking away the shores and spurs.
And see! she stirs!
She starts, — she moves, — she seems to feel
The thrill of life along her keel,
  
350
And, spurning with her foot the ground,
With one exulting, joyous bound,
She leaps into the ocean’s arms!
And lo! from the assembled crowd
There rose a shout, prolonged and loud,
  
355
That to the ocean seemed to say,
‘Take her, O bridegroom, old and gray,
With all her youth and all her charms!’

 

How beautiful she is! How fair
She lies within those arms, that press
  
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Her form with many a soft caress
Of tenderness and watchful care!
Sail forth into the sea, O ship!
Through wind and wave, right onward steer!
The moistened eye, the trembling lip,
  
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Are not the signs of doubt or fear.
Sail forth into the sea of life,
O gentle, loving, trusting wife,
And safe from all adversity
Upon the bosom of that sea
  
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Thy comings and thy goings be!
For gentleness and love and trust
Prevail o’er angry wave and gust;
And in the wreck of noble lives
Something immortal still survives!
  
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Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State!
Sail on, O UNION, strong and great!
Humanity with all its fears,
With all the hopes of future years,
Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
  
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We know what Master laid thy keel,
What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel,
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope,
What anvils rang, what hammers beat,
In what a forge and what a heat
  
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Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!
Fear not each sudden sound and shock,
’Tis of the wave and not the rock;
’Tis but the flapping of the sail,
And not a rent made by the gale!
  
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In spite of rock and tempest’s roar,
In spite of false lights on the shore,
Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
  
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Our faith triumphant o’er our fears,
Are all with thee, — are all with thee!

 

List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

 

List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

 

My Lost Youth

 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882)

 

OFTEN I think of the beautiful town
 
That is seated by the sea;
Often in thought go up and down
The pleasant streets of that dear old town,
 
And my youth comes back to me.
  
5
 
And a verse of a Lapland song
 
Is haunting my memory still
 
‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’

 

I can see the shadowy lines of its trees,
  
10
 
And catch, in sudden gleams,
The sheen of the far-surrounding seas,
And islands that were the Hesperides
 
Of all my boyish dreams.
 
And the burden of that old song,
  
15
 
It murmurs and whispers still:
 
‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’

 

I remember the black wharves and the slips,
 
And the sea-tides tossing free;
  
20
And the Spanish sailors with bearded lips,
And the beauty and mystery of the ships,
 
And the magic of the sea.
 
And the voice of that wayward song
 
Is singing and saying still:
  
25
 
‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’

 

I remember the bulwarks by the shore,
 
And the fort upon the hill;
The sunrise gun, with its hollow roar,
  
30
The drum-beat repeated o’er and o’er,
 
And the bugle wild and shrill.
 
And the music of that old song
 
Throbs in my memory still:
 
‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
  
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And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’

 

I remember the sea-fight far away,
 
How it thundered o’er the tide!
And the dead captains, as they lay
In their graves, o’erlooking the tranquil bay
  
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Where they in battle died.
 
And the sound of that mournful song
 
Goes through me with a thrill:
 
‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’
  
45

 

I can see the breezy dome of groves,
 
The shadows of Deering’s Woods;
And the friendship old and the early loves
Come back with a Sabbath sound, as of doves
 
In quiet neighborhoods.
  
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And the verse of that sweet old song,
 
It flutters and murmurs still:
 
‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’

 

I remember the gleams and glooms that dart
  
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Across the school-boy’s brain;
The song and the silence in the heart,
That in part are prophecies, and in part
 
Are longings wild and vain.
 
And the voice of that fitful song
  
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Sings on, and is never still:
 
‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’

 

There are things of which I may not speak;
 
There are dreams that cannot die;
  
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There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,
And bring a pallor into the cheek,
 
And a mist before the eye.
 
And the words of that fatal song
 
Come over me like a chill:
  
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‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’

 

Strange to me now are the forms I meet
 
When I visit the dear old town;
But the native air is pure and sweet,
  
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And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,
 
As they balance up and down,
 
Are singing the beautiful song,
 
Are sighing and whispering still:
 
‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
  
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And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’

 

And Deering’s Woods are fresh and fair,
 
And with joy that is almost pain
My heart goes back to wander there,
And among the dreams of the days that were,
  
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I find my lost youth again.
 
And the strange and beautiful song,
 
The groves are repeating it still:
 
‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’
  
90

 

List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

 

List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

 

The Fiftieth Birthday of Agassiz

 

May 28, 1857

 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882)

 

IT was fifty years ago
 
In the pleasant month of May,
In the beautiful Pays de Vaud,
 
A child in its cradle lay.

 

And Nature, the old nurse, took
  
5
 
The child upon her knee,
Saying: ‘Here is a story-book
 
Thy Father has written for thee.’

 

‘Come, wander with me,’ she said,
 
‘Into regions yet untrod;
  
10
And read what is still unread
 
In the manuscripts of God.’

 

And he wandered away and away
 
With Nature, the dear old nurse,
Who sang to him night and day
  
15
 
The rhymes of the universe.

 

And whenever the way seemed long,
 
Or his heart began to fail,
She would sing a more wonderful song,
 
Or tell a more marvellous tale.
  
20

 

So she keeps him still a child,
 
And will not let him go,
Though at times his heart beats wild
 
For the beautiful Pays de Vaud;

 

Though at times he hears in his dreams
  
25
 
The Ranz des Vaches of old,
And the rush of mountain streams
 
From glaciers clear and cold;

 

And the mother at home says, ‘Hark!
 
For his voice I listen and yearn;
  
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It is growing late and dark,
 
And my boy does not return!’

 

List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

 

List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

 

The Children’s Hour

 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882)

 

BETWEEN the dark and the daylight,
 
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day’s occupations,
 
That is known as the Children’s Hour.

 

I hear in the chamber above me
  
5
 
The patter of little feet,
The sound of a door that is opened,
 
And voices soft and sweet.

 

From my study I see in the lamplight,
 
Descending the broad hall stair,
  
10
Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,
 
And Edith with golden hair.

 

A whisper, and then a silence:
 
Yet I know by their merry eyes
They are plotting and planning together
  
15
 
To take me by surprise.

 

A sudden rush from the stairway,
 
A sudden raid from the hall!
By three doors left unguarded
 
They enter my castle wall!
  
20

 

They climb up into my turret
 
O’er the arms and back of my chair;
If I try to escape, they surround me;
 
They seem to be everywhere.

 

They almost devour me with kisses,
  
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Their arms about me entwine,
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen
 
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!

 

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,
 
Because you have scaled the wall,
  
30
Such an old mustache as I am
 
Is not a match for you all!

 

I have you fast in my fortress,
 
And will not let you depart,
But put you down into the dungeon
  
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In the round-tower of my heart.

 

And there will I keep you forever,
 
Yes, forever and a day,
Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,
 
And moulder in dust away!
  
40

 

List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

 

List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

 

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