. One hundred and one famous poems, with a prose supplement. Waiting John Burroughs(Bom April 3, 1837; Died March 29, 1921) Serene, I fold my hands and wait,Nor care for wind nor tide nor sea; I rave no more gainst time or fate,For lo! my own shall come to me. I stay my haste, I make delays— For what avails this eager pace?I stand amid the eternal ways And what is mine shall know my face. Asleep, awake, by night or day,The friends I seek are seeking me, No wind can drive my bark astrayNor change the tide of destiny. What matter if I stand alone? I wait with joy the coming years;My heart shall
. One hundred and one famous poems, with a prose supplement. Waiting John Burroughs(Bom April 3, 1837; Died March 29, 1921) Serene, I fold my hands and wait,Nor care for wind nor tide nor sea; I rave no more gainst time or fate,For lo! my own shall come to me. I stay my haste, I make delays— For what avails this eager pace?I stand amid the eternal ways And what is mine shall know my face. Asleep, awake, by night or day,The friends I seek are seeking me, No wind can drive my bark astrayNor change the tide of destiny. What matter if I stand alone? I wait with joy the coming years;My heart shall reap where it has sown, And garner up its fruit of tears. The waters know their own, and draw The brook that springs in yonder height; So flows the good with equal lawUnto the soul of pure delight. The stars come nightly to the sky; The tidal wave unto the sea;Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high, Can keep my own away from me. Page Seventy-six (®tt£ ^Unnitrtix ztnit ©tte jBTammts l^&zms. Paul Reveres Ride Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Born February 27, 1807; Died March 24,1882) Listen, my children, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year. He said to his friend, If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower as a signal light,— One if by land, and two if by sea; And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm, For the country folk to be up and to arm. Then he said Good-night! and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, Just as the moon rose over the bay, Where swinging wide at her moorings lay The Somerset, British man-of-war; A phantom ship, with each mast and spar Across the moon like a prison bar, And a huge black hulk, that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide. Meanwhile,
Size: 1383px × 1808px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, booksubjectenglishpoetry, bookye
