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A FOREST HYMN
And of the triumphs of his ghastly foe
There have been holy men who hid themselves Deep in the woody wilderness, and gave Their lives to thought and prayer, till they outlived The generation born with them, nor seemed Less aged than the hoary trees and rocks Around them; and there have been holy men Who deemed it were not well to pass life thus. 10 But let me often to these solitudes Retire, and in Thy presence reassure My feeble virtue. Here its enemies, The passions, at Thy plainer footsteps shrink And tremble and are still. O God! when Thou Dost scare the world with tempests, set on fire The heavens with falling thunderbolts, or fill, With all the waters of the firmament, The swift dark whirlwind that uproots the woods And drowns the villages; when, at Thy call, Uprises the great deep and throws himself Upon the continent, and overwhelms Its cities - who forgets not, at the sight Of these tremendous tokens of Thy power, His pride, and lays his strifes and follies by ?
25 Oh, from these sterner aspects of Thy face Spare me and mine, nor let us need the wrath
Of the mad unchained elements to teach
RALPH WALDO EMERSON
So nigh is grandeur to our dust,
So near is God to man;
The youth replies, “I can.”
By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
And fired the shot heard round the world.
The foe long since in silence slept;
Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.
EACH AND ALL
On this green bank, by this soft stream,
We set to-day a votive stone;
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.
To die, and leave their children free,
The shaft we raise to them and thee.
Each and All
Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown
He sings the song, but it pleases not now;
The delicate shells lay on the shore;
I wiped away the weeds and foam ---
But the poor, unsightly, noisome things
The lover watched his graceful maid, 15 As 'mid the virgin train she strayed,
Nor knew her beauty's best attire
Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage; 20 The gay enchantment was undone
A gentle wife, but fairy none.
Then I said, "I covet truth;
I leave it behind with the games of youth." 25 As I spoke, beneath my feet
THE ARSENAL AT SPRINGFIELD
The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath,
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
The Arsenal at Springfield
This is the arsenal. From floor to ceiling,
Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms; But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing
Startles the villages with strange alarms.
Ah! what a sound will rise - how wild and dreary
When the death-angel touches those swift keys ! What loud lament and dismal miserere
Will mingle with their awful symphonies !