Brothers, let us glorify freedoms twilight
the great, darkening year.
Into the seething waters of the night
heavy forests of nets disappear.
O Sun, judge, people, your light
is rising over sombre years

Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Musician's Tale; The Saga of King Olaf XVI. -- Queen Thuri And

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Northward over Drontheim,
Flew the clamorous sea-gulls,
Sang the lark and linnet
From the meadows green;

From Faust - Second Part - Scene The Last

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

ANGELS.
[Hovering in the higher regions of air, and hearing the immortal
part of Faust.]

On The Purple And White Carnation

© Caroline Norton

She spoke, and wept; and the echo again
Repeated the curse, but all in vain--
The tyrant laughed as he fluttered away,
Spreading his rainbow wings to the day,
And settling at random his feathered darts
To spoil sweet flowers, or break fond hearts.

The Army Surgeon

© Sydney Thompson Dobell

Over that breathing waste of friends and foes,

The wounded and the dying, hour by hour,-

Mist And Frost

© Duncan Campbell Scott

Veil-like and beautiful
Gathered the dutiful
Mist in the night,
True to the messaging,
Dreamful and presaging
Vapour and light.

King Volmer and Elsie

© John Greenleaf Whittier

Where, over heathen doom-rings and gray stones of the Horg,
In its little Christian city stands the church of Vordingborg,
In merry mood King Volmer sat, forgetful of his power,
As idle as the Goose of Gold that brooded on his tower.

On The Trust

Think England what it is to shake,

& better use your King,

The Visionary Boy

Oh! lend that lute, sweet Archimage, to me!

Enough of care and heaviness

Sonnet Of Motherhood XXXI

You are your mother, Dear, as I am mine.
And, as we slumber to our souls caress,
Those two who panged for us and weeping smiled,
Draw near and bind us in a peace divine.
O mother me; all else is comfortless
As painted lips above a dying child.

Epigram. Omnia Vincit Amor.

O Love, though Virgil's lays ascribe

Resistless power to thee,

The Pleasures of Memory - Part I.

Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village-green,
With magic tints to harmonize the scene.
Still'd is the hum that thro' the hamlet broke,
When round the ruins of their antient oak

EPODE III.
From hence the skilful well might find
The impatience of Patroclus' mind:
Achilles, therefore, with parental care,
Advis'd him ne'er alone to tempt the war.