Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50)

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Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50) Page 236

by Homer


  I had stood on that bridge at midnight

  And gazed on that wave and sky!

  How often, oh how often,

  I had wished that the ebbing tide 30

  Would bear me away on its bosom

  O’er the ocean wild and wide!

  For my heart was hot and restless,

  And my life was full of care,

  And the burden laid upon me 35

  Seemed greater than I could bear.

  But now it has fallen from me,

  It is buried in the sea;

  And only the sorrow of others

  Throws its shadow over me, 40

  Yet whenever I cross the river

  On its bridge with wooden piers,

  Like the odor of brine from the ocean

  Comes the thought of other years.

  And I think how many thousands 45

  Of care-encumbered men,

  Each bearing his burden of sorrow,

  Have crossed the bridge since then.

  I see the long procession

  Still passing to and fro, 50

  The young heart hot and restless,

  And the old subdued and slow!

  And forever and forever,

  As long as the river flows,

  As long as the heart has passions, 55

  As long as life has woes;

  The moon and its broken reflection

  And its shadows shall appear,

  As the symbol of love in heaven,

  And its wavering image here. 60

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  Resignation

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882)

  THERE is no flock, however watched and tended,

  But one dead lamb is there!

  There is no fireside, howsoe’er defended,

  But has one vacant chair!

  The air is full of farewells to the dying, 5

  And mournings for the dead;

  The heart of Rachel, for her children crying,

  Will not be comforted!

  Let us be patient! These severe afflictions

  Not from the ground arise, 10

  But oftentimes celestial benedictions

  Assume this dark disguise.

  We see but dimly through the mists and vapors;

  Amid these earthly damps

  What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers 15

  May be heaven’s distant lamps.

  There is no Death! What seems so is transition;

  This life of mortal breath

  Is but a suburb of the life elysian,

  Whose portal we call Death. 20

  She is not dead, — the child of our affection, —

  But gone unto that school

  Where she no longer needs our poor protection,

  And Christ himself doth rule.

  In that great cloister’s stillness and seclusion, 25

  By guardian angels led,

  Safe from temptation, safe from sin’s pollution,

  She lives whom we call dead.

  Day after day we think what she is doing

  In those bright realms of air; 30

  Year after year, her tender steps pursuing,

  Behold her grown more fair.

  Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken,

  The bond which nature gives,

  Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken, 35

  May reach her where she lives.

  Not as a child shall we again behold her;

  For when with raptures wild

  In our embraces we again enfold her,

  She will not be a child; 40

  But a fair maiden, in her Father’s mansion,

  Clothed with celestial grace;

  And beautiful with all the soul’s expansion

  Shall we behold her face.

  And though at times impetuous with emotion 45

  And anguish long suppressed,

  The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean,

  That cannot be at rest, —

  We will be patient, and assuage the feeling

  We may not wholly stay; 50

  By silence sanctifying, not concealing,

  The grief that must have way.

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  Children

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882)

  COME to me, O ye children!

  For I hear you at your play,

  And the questions that perplexed me

  Have vanished quite away.

  Ye open the eastern windows, 5

  That look towards the sun,

  Where thoughts are singing swallows

  And the brooks of morning run.

  In your hearts are the birds and the sunshine,

  In your thoughts the brooklet’s flow, 10

  But in mine is the wind of Autumn

  And the first fall of the snow.

  Ah! what would the world be to us

  If the children were no more?

  We should dread the desert behind us 15

  Worse than the dark before.

  What the leaves are to the forest,

  With light and air for food,

  Ere their sweet and tender juices

  Have been hardened into wood, — 20

  That to the world are children;

  Through them it feels the glow

  Of a brighter and sunnier climate

  Than reaches the trunks below.

  Come to me, O ye children! 25

  And whisper in my ear

  What the birds and the winds are singing

  In your sunny atmosphere.

  For what are all our contrivings,

  And the wisdom of our books, 30

  When compared with your caresses,

  And the gladness of your looks?

  Ye are better than all the ballads

  That ever were sung or said;

  For ye are living poems, 35

  And all the rest are dead.

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  The Building of the Ship

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882)

  ‘BUILD me straight, O worthy Master!

  Stanch and strong, a goodly vessel,

  That shall laugh at all disaster,

  And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!’

  The merchant’s word 5

  Delighted the Master heard;

  For his heart was in his work, and the heart

  Giveth grace unto every Art.

  A quiet smile played round his lips,

  As the eddies and dimples of the tide 10

  Play round the bows of ships

  That steadily at anchor ride.

  And with a voice that was full of glee,

  He answered, ‘Erelong we will launch

  A vessel as goodly, and strong, and stanch, 15

  As ever weathered a wintry sea!’

  And first with nicest skill and art,

  Perfect and finished in every part,

  A little model the Master wrought,

  Which should be to the larger plan 20

  What the child is to the man,

  Its counterpart in miniature;

  That with a hand more swift and sure

  The greater labor might be brought

  To answer to his inward thought. 25

  And as he labored, his mind ran o’er

  The various ships that were built of yore,

  And above them all, and strangest of all

  Towered the Great Harry, crank and tall,

  Whose picture was hanging on the wall, 30

  With bows and stern raised high in air,

  And balconies hanging here and there,

  And signal lanterns and flags afloat,

  And eight round towers, like those that frown

&nbs
p; From some old castle, looking down 35

  Upon the drawbridge and the moat.

  And he said with a smile, ‘Our ship, I wis,

  Shall be of another form than this!’

  It was of another form, indeed;

  Built for freight, and yet for speed, 40

  A beautiful and gallant craft;

  Broad in the beam, that the stress of the blast,

  Pressing down upon sail and mast,

  Might not the sharp bows overwhelm;

  Broad in the beam, but sloping aft 45

  With graceful curve and slow degrees,

  That she might be docile to the helm,

  And that the currents of parted seas,

  Closing behind, with mighty force,

  Might aid and not impede her course. 50

  In the ship-yard stood the Master,

  With the model of the vessel,

  That should laugh at all disaster,

  And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!

  Covering many a rood of ground, 55

  Lay the timber piled around;

  Timber of chestnut, and elm, and oak,

  And scattered here and there, with these,

  The knarred and crooked cedar knees;

  Brought from regions far away, 60

  From Pascagoula’s sunny bay,

  And the banks of the roaring Roanoke!

  Ah! what a wondrous thing it is

  To note how many wheels of toil

  One thought, one word, can set in motion! 65

  There’s not a ship that sails the ocean,

  But every climate, every soil,

  Must bring its tribute, great or small,

  And help to build the wooden wall!

  The sun was rising o’er the sea, 70

  And long the level shadows lay,

  As if they, too, the beams would be

  Of some great, airy argosy,

  Framed and launched in a single day.

  That silent architect, the sun, 75

  Had hewn and laid them every one,

  Ere the work of man was yet begun.

  Beside the Master, when he spoke,

  A youth, against an anchor leaning,

  Listened, to catch his slightest meaning, 80

  Only the long waves, as they broke

  In ripples on the pebbly beach,

  Interrupted the old man’s speech.

  Beautiful they were, in sooth,

  The old man and the fiery youth! 85

  The old man, in whose busy brain

  Many a ship that sailed the main

  Was modelled o’er and o’er again;

  The fiery youth, who was to be

  The heir of his dexterity, 90

  The heir of his house, and his daughter’s hand

  When he had built and launched from land

  What the elder head had planned.

  ‘Thus,’ said he, ‘will we build this ship!

  Lay square the blocks upon the slip, 95

  And follow well this plan of mine.

  Choose the timbers with greatest care;

  Of all that is unsound beware;

  For only what is sound and strong

  To this vessel shall belong. 100

  Cedar of Maine and Georgia pine

  Here together shall combine.

  A goodly frame, and a goodly fame,

  And the UNION be her name!

  For the day that gives her to the sea 105

  Shall give my daughter unto thee!’

  The Master’s word

  Enraptured the young man heard;

  And as he turned his face aside,

  With a look of joy and a thrill of pride 110

  Standing before

  Her father’s door,

  He saw the form of his promised bride.

  The sun shone on her golden hair,

  And her cheek was glowing fresh and fair, 115

  With the breath of morn and the soft sea air.

  Like a beauteous barge was she,

  Still at rest on the sandy beach,

  Just beyond the billow’s reach;

  But he 120

  Was the restless, seething, stormy sea!

  Ah, how skilful grows the hand

  That obeyeth Love’s command!

  It is the heart, and not the brain,

  That to the highest doth attain, 125

  And he who followeth Love’s behest

  Far excelleth all the rest!

  Thus with the rising of the sun

  Was the noble task begun,

  And soon throughout the ship-yard’s bounds 130

  Were heard the intermingled sounds

  Of axes and of mallets, plied

  With vigorous arms on every side;

  Plied so deftly and so well,

  That, ere the shadows of evening fell, 135

  The keel of oak for a noble ship,

  Scarfed and bolted, straight and strong,

  Was lying ready, and stretched along

  The blocks, well placed upon the slip.

  Happy, thrice happy, every one 140

  Who sees his labor well begun,

  And not perplexed and multiplied,

  By idly waiting for time and tide!

  And when the hot, long day was o’er,

  The young man at the Master’s door 145

  Sat with the maiden calm and still,

  And within the porch, a little more

  Removed beyond the evening chill,

  The father sat, and told them tales

  Of wrecks in the great September gales, 150

  Of pirates coasting the Spanish Main,

  And ships that never came back again,

  The chance and change of a sailor’s life,

  Want and plenty, rest and strife,

  His roving fancy, like the wind, 155

  That nothing can stay and nothing can bind,

  And the magic charm of foreign lands,

  With shadows of palms, and shining sands,

  Where the tumbling surf,

  O’er the coral reefs of Madagascar, 160

  Washes the feet of the swarthy Lascar,

  As he lies alone and asleep on the turf.

  And the trembling maiden held her breath

  At the tales of that awful, pitiless sea,

  With all its terror and mystery, 165

  The dim, dark sea, so like unto Death,

  That divides and yet unites mankind!

  And whenever the old man paused, a gleam

  From the bowl of his pipe would awhile illume

  The silent group in the twilight gloom, 170

  And thoughtful faces, as in a dream;

  And for a moment one might mark

  What had been hidden by the dark,

  That the head of the maiden lay at rest,

  Tenderly, on the young man’s breast! 175

  Day by day the vessel grew,

  With timbers fashioned strong and true,

  Stemson and keelson and sternson-knee,

  Till, framed with perfect symmetry,

  A skeleton ship rose up to view! 180

  And around the bows and along the side

  The heavy hammers and mallets plied,

  Till after many a week, at length,

  Wonderful for form and strength,

  Sublime in its enormous bulk, 185

  Loomed aloft the shadowy hulk!

  And around it columns of smoke, upwreathing,

  Rose from the boiling, bubbling, seething

  Caldron, that glowed,

  And overflowed 190

  With the black tar, heated for the sheathing.

  And amid the clamors

  Of clattering hammers,

  He who listened heard now and then

  The song of the Master and his men: — 195

  ‘Build me straight, O worthy Master,

  Stanch and strong, a goodly vessel,

  That shall laugh at all disaster,

 
And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!’

  With oaken brace and copper band, 200

  Lay the rudder on the sand,

  That, like a thought, should have control

  Over the movement of the whole;

  And near it the anchor, whose giant hand

  Would reach down and grapple with the land, 205

  And immovable and fast

  Hold the great ship against the bellowing blast!

  And at the bows an image stood,

  By a cunning artist carved in wood,

  With robes of white, that far behind 210

  Seemed to be fluttering in the wind.

  It was not shaped in a classic mould,

  Not like a Nymph or Goddess of old,

  Or Naiad rising from the water,

  But modelled from the Master’s daughter! 215

  On many a dreary and misty night,

  ‘T will be seen by the rays of the signal light,

  Speeding along through the rain and the dark,

  Like a ghost in its snow-white sark,

  The pilot of some phantom bark, 220

  Guiding the vessel, in its flight,

  By a path none other knows aright!

  Behold, at last,

  Each tall and tapering mast

  Is swung into its place; 225

  Shrouds and stays

  Holding it firm and fast!

  Long ago,

  In the deer-haunted forests of Maine,

  When upon mountain and plain 230

  Lay the snow,

  They fell, — those lordly pines!

  Those grand, majestic pines!

  ‘Mid shouts and cheers

  The jaded steers, 235

  Panting beneath the goad,

  Dragged down the weary, winding road

  Those captive kings so straight and tall,

  To be shorn of their streaming hair,

  And naked and bare, 240

  To feel the stress and the strain

  Of the wind and the reeling main,

  whose roar

  Would remind them forevermore

  Of their native forests they should not see again. 245

  And everywhere

  The slender, graceful spars

  Poise aloft in the air,

 

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