Our boat to the waves go free, By the bending tide, where the curled wave breaks, Like the track of the wind on the white snowflakes: Away, away! ’T is a path o’er the sea. Blasts may rave,—spread the sail, For our spirits can wrest the power from the wind, And the gray clouds yield to the sunny mind, Fear not we the whirl of the gale.
Our boat to the waves go free, By the bending tide, where the curled wave breaks, Like the track of the wind on the white snowflakes: Away, away! ’T is a path o’er the sea. Blasts may rave,—spread the sail, For our spirits can wrest the power from the wind, And the gray clouds yield to...
No abbey’s gloom, nor dark cathedral stoops, No winding torches paint the midnight air; Here the green pines delight, the aspen droops Along the modest pathways, and those fair Pale asters of the season spread their plumes Around this field, fit garden for our tombs. And shalt thou pause...
Edith, the silent stars are coldly gleaming, The night wind moans, the leafless trees are still. Edith, there is a life beyond this seeming, So sleeps the ice-clad lake beneath thy hill. So silent beats the pulse of thy pure heart, So shines the thought of thy unquestioned eyes. O life!...
The swallow is flying over, But he will not come to me; He flits, my daring rover, From land to land, from sea to sea; Where hot Bermuda’s reef Its barrier lifts to fortify the shore, Above the surf’s wild roar He darts as swiftly o’er,— But he who heard his cry of spring Hears that no more,...
On your bare rocks, O barren moors, On your bare rocks I love to lie!— They stand like crags upon the shores, Or clouds upon a placid sky. Across those spaces desolate The fox pursues his lonely way, Those solitudes can fairly sate The passage of my loneliest day. Like desert islands far at sea...
