Benjamin Franklin Taylor

  • The Northern Lights

    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!

  • The Old Village Choir

    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...