1. John Neal
Men of the North

Men of the North, look up!
    There ’s a tumult in your sky;
A troubled glory surging out,
    Great shadows hurrying by.

Your strength—where is it now?
    Your quivers—are they spent?
Your arrows in the rust of death,
    Your fathers...

Poet: John Neal
Music of the Night

There are harps that complain to the presence of night,
  To the presence of night alone—
  In a near and unchangeable tone—
Like winds, full of sound, that go whispering by,
As if some immortal had stooped from the sky,
  And breathed out a blessing—and...

Poet: John Neal