To claim the Arctic came the sun With banners of the burning zone. Unrolled upon their airy spars, They froze beneath the light of stars; And there they float, those streamers old, Those Northern Lights, forever cold!
To claim the Arctic came the sun With banners of the burning zone. Unrolled upon their airy spars, They froze beneath the light of stars; And there they float, those streamers old, Those Northern Lights, forever cold!
I Have fancied, sometimes, the Bethel-bent beam, That trembled to earth in the patriarch’s dream, Was a ladder of song in that wilderness rest, From the pillar of stone to the blue of the blest, And the angels descending to dwell with us here, “Old Hundred,” and “Corinth,” and “China,” and “Mear...
