Brave Admiral, say but one good word: What shall we do when hope is gone?" The words leapt like a leaping sword: "Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!"
Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck, And peered through darkness. Ah, that night Of all dark nights! And then a speck
A light! a light! a light! a light! It grew, a starlit flag unfurled!
It grew to be Time's burst of dawn. He gained a world; he gave that world Its grandest lesson: "On! sail on!"
This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream: There spread a cloud of dust along a plain; And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes. A craven hung along the battle's edge,
And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel
That blue blade that the king's son bears, - but this Blunt thing!" he snapt and flung it from his hand, And lowering crept away and left the field.
Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead, And weaponless, and saw the broken sword, Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand,
And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down,
And saved a great cause that heroic day.
- Edward Rowland Sill
THE DAFFODILS
I wander'd lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretch'd in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed and gazed - but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.
SONG OF THE CHATTAHOOCHEE
Out of the hills of Habersham,
Down the valleys of Hall,
I hurry amain to reach the plain, Run the rapid and leap the fall, Split at the rock and together again, Accept my bed, or narrow or wide, And flee from folly on every side With a lover's pain to attain the plain Far from the hills of Habersham, Far from the valleys of Hall.
All down the hills of Habersham, All through the valleys of Hall, The rushes cried, Abide, abide! The wilful waterweeds held me thrall, The laving laurel turned my tide,
The ferns and the fondling grass said Stay, The dewberry dipped for to work delay, And the little reeds sighed, Abide, abide, Here in the hills of Habersham, Here in the valleys of Hall.
High o'er the hills of Habersham, Veiling the valleys of Hall,
The hickory told me manifold Fair tales of shade, the poplar tall Wrought me her shadowy self to hold,
The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine, Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign, Said, Pass not, so cold, these manifold
Deep shades of the hills of Habersham, These glades in the valleys of Hall.
And oft in the hills of Habersham,
And oft in the valleys of Hall,
The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook-stone Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl, And many a luminous jewel lone
Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist,
Ruby, garnet, and amethyst
Made lures with the lights of streaming stone In the clefts of the hills of Habersham,
In the beds of the valleys of Hall.
But oh, not the hills of Habersham, And oh, not the valleys of Hall Avail: I am fain for to water the plain. Downward the voices of Duty call-
Downward, to toil and be mixed with the main: The dry fields burn, and the mills are to turn, And a myriad flowers mortally yearn,
And the lordly main from beyond the plain Calls o'er the hills of Habersham, Calls through the valleys of Hall.
I saw the spires of Oxford
As I was passing by,
The gray spires of Oxford
Against the pearl-gray sky;
My heart was with the Oxford men Who went aboard to die.
1 By permission. Copyright by E. P. Dutton & Company.
The years go fast in Oxford, The golden years and gay, The hoary Colleges look down On careless boys at play.
But when the bugles sounded-War! They put their games away.
They left the peaceful river,
The cricket-field, the quad,
The shaven lawns of Oxford, To seek a bloody sod.
They gave their merry youth away For country and for God.
God rest you, happy gentlemen, Who laid your good lives down, Who took the khaki and the gun Instead of cap and gown. God bring you to a fairer place Than even Oxford town.
Old lame Bridget doesn't hear Fairy music in the grass
When the gloaming's on the mere And the shadow people pass: Never hears their slow gray feet Coming from the village street Just beyond the parson's wall, Where the clover globes are sweet
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