Poems . S. Upon the hot and burning stars,As on the glowing coals and bars,That were to prove her strength, and tryHer holiness and her purity. Thus moving on, with silent pace, And triumph in her sweet, pale face, She reached the station of Orion, Aghast he stood in strange alarm ! And suddenly from his outstretched arm Down fell the red skin of the lion Into the river at his feet. His mighty club no longer beat The forehead of the bull; but he Reeled as of yore beside the sea, When, blinded by GEnopion, He sought the blacksmith at his forge, And, climbing up the mountain gorge, Fixed his bla
Poems . S. Upon the hot and burning stars,As on the glowing coals and bars,That were to prove her strength, and tryHer holiness and her purity. Thus moving on, with silent pace, And triumph in her sweet, pale face, She reached the station of Orion, Aghast he stood in strange alarm ! And suddenly from his outstretched arm Down fell the red skin of the lion Into the river at his feet. His mighty club no longer beat The forehead of the bull; but he Reeled as of yore beside the sea, When, blinded by GEnopion, He sought the blacksmith at his forge, And, climbing up the mountain gorge, Fixed his blank eyes upon the sun. Then, through the silence overhead, An angel with a trumpet said, Forevermore, forevermore, The reign of violence is oer! And, like an instrument that flings Its music on anothers strings, The trumpet of the angel cast Upon the heavenly lyre its blast, And on from sphere to sphere the words Reechoed down the burning chords,— Forevermore, forevermore, The reign of violence is oer !. THE BRIDGE. I STOOD on the bridge at midnight, As the clocks were striking the hour, And the moon rose oer the city,Behind the dark church tower, I saw her bright reflectionIn the waters under me, Like a golden goblet fallingAnd sinking into the sen, 310 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. And far in the hazy distance Of that lovely night in June, The blaze of the flaming furnace Gleamed redder than the moon. Among the long, black raftersThe wavering shadows lay, And the current that came from the oceanSeemed to lift and bear them away; As, sweeping and eddying through them, Rose the belated tide,And, streaming into the moonlight, The seaweed floated wide. Among the wooden piers,A flood of thoughts came oer meThat filled my eyes with tears. How often, 0, how often, In the days that had gone by, I had stood on that bridge at midnightAnd gazed on that wave and sky! How often, 0, how often, I had wished that the ebbing tideWould bear me away on its bosom Oer the ocean wild and wide ! THE BRIDGE
Size: 1585px × 1576px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauthorlongfellowhenrywadswo, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1850
