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It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn

The households born

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

66

And in despair I bowed my head;
There is no peace on earth,” I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song

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In the horoscope of nations,

Of peace on earth, good-will to Like ascendant constellations,

men!"

They control the coming years."

Then pealed the bells more loud and But the night-wind cries: "Despair!

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SEE, the fire is sinking low,
Dusky red the embers glow,

While above them still I cower, While a moment more I linger, Though the clock, with lifted finger, Points beyond the midnight hour.

Sings the blackened log a tune
Learned in some forgotten June

From a school-boy at his play, When they both were young together, Heart of youth and summer weather Making all their holiday.

And the night-wind rising, hark!
How above there in the dark,

In the midnight and the snow,
Ever wilder, fiercer, grander,
Like the trumpets of Iskander,

All the noisy chimneys blow!

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Every quivering tongue of flame
Seems to murmur some great name, 20
Seems to say to me, Aspire!'
But the night-wind answers,
Are the visions that you follow,
Into darkness sinks your fire!"

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Hollow

Then the flicker of the blaze Gleams on volumes of old days,

Written by masters of the art,

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Over the shining sands the wandering | The cheer of whose laugh, and whose

cattle homeward

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pleasant word,

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Ye cry aloud, and then are still, OI
Bells of Lynn!

spake in a whisper, as he who speaks

In a room where some one is lying The builder's perfect and centennial

dead;

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flower,

That in the night of ages bloomed alone,

But wanting still the glory of the spire.

TO-MORROW

'Tis late at night, and in the realm of sleep

My little lambs are folded like the flocks;

From room to room I hear the wakeful clocks

Challenge the passing hour, like guards that keep

Their solitary watch on tower and steep;

Far off I hear the crowing of the cocks,

And through the opening door that time unlocks

Feel the fresh breathing of To-morrow creep.

To-morrow! the mysterious, unknown guest,

Who cries to me: "Remember Barmecide,

And tremble to be happy with the rest."

And I make answer: "I am satisfied;

I dare not ask; I know not what is

best;

God hath already said what shall betide."

DIVINA COMMEDIA

I

OFT have I seen at some cathedral door A laborer, pausing in the dust and heat,

Lay down his burden, and with reverent feet

Enter, and cross himself, and on the

floor

Kneel to repeat his paternoster o'er ; Far off the noises of the world re

treat;

The loud vociferations of the street Become an undistinguishable roar.

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VI

O star of morning and of liberty! O bringer of the light, whose splendor shines

Above the darkness of the Apennines,

Forerunner of the day that is to be! The voices of the city and the sea, The voices of the mountains and the pines,

Repeat thy song, till the familiar lines

Are footpaths for the thought of Italy!

Thy flame is blown abroad from all the heights,

Through all the nations, and a sound is heard,

As of a mighty wind, and men devout, Strangers of Rome, and the new proselytes,

In their own language hear thy wondrous word,

And many are amazed and many doubt.

NOËL

ENVOYÉ À M. AGASSIZ, LA VEILLE DE
NOËL, 1864, AVEC UN PANIER DE
VINS DIVERS

L'Académie en respect,
Nonobstant l'incorrection
A la faveur du sujet,
Ture-lure,

N'y fera point de rature;
Noël! ture-lure-lure.
GUI BAROZAI

QUAND les astres de Noël
Brillaient, palpitaient au ciel,

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