Poems . with reverential bending,Earnest voices calmly blending, We the golden legend read ;Turned away to daily duty,Filled with thoughts of love and beauty From the words we felt and said. Iu a week the sunny meltingsAnd the playful childrens peltings Left no trace of city there:But for many weeks the peopleSaw our temples glittering steeple Pointing towards the heavens so fair Years have flown with sorrows traces,Still I see those rapt, sweet faces. See them through the blinding tears;And I hear the merry each youthful heart rejoices. Sounding oer lifes storms and fears. One there
Poems . with reverential bending,Earnest voices calmly blending, We the golden legend read ;Turned away to daily duty,Filled with thoughts of love and beauty From the words we felt and said. Iu a week the sunny meltingsAnd the playful childrens peltings Left no trace of city there:But for many weeks the peopleSaw our temples glittering steeple Pointing towards the heavens so fair Years have flown with sorrows traces,Still I see those rapt, sweet faces. See them through the blinding tears;And I hear the merry each youthful heart rejoices. Sounding oer lifes storms and fears. One there was wTho called me mother,Whom each child called little brother, But Death kissed my darlings brow :Mamma, let us help the others,—That will sweeten all lifes bothers, Ah ! how plain I hear it now. 21 Yes, I bear the silvery chiming,As the lips repeat the rhyming, Swinging up the frosty years:<kWe are sisters, we are brothers—Mamma, let us help the others,— Win their smiles and dry their THE WINTER KING fN the far arctic zone,That region so palaces fair to be seen;There are turrets and towersAnd raany-hued bowers All bright in their crystalline sheen. In that cold icy shapings so grand Were formed by the Winter King bold;By his magical craftHe fashioned each shaft, And touched it with purple and gold. For Borealis torch, He hewed out the porch Whence flame forth those wonderful w7hite temple of snow-He built long ago, Where the Spirit of Solitude prays. 28 Marching through bis proud halls,He frescoed the walls By sending his breath on the wove his designsOf flowers and vines, Of all lovely things that ai e rare. Oh! the splendors and gleamsOf those dazzling beams Where Wiuter King piles up his excelled not, I ween,In realms of that Queen Who governs the Land of the Rose. Out of heart with each thing,This hoary old King Concluded a journey to take,So he called in tones gruffPrime ministers rough His brief preparations
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookidpoems00chaa, bookyear1900
