Ode (Albert Pike Poems)
(SUNG AT THE CELEBRATION OF THE I. O. O. F.)The night cometh swiftly, the thick clouds are drifting Around the ...
(SUNG AT THE CELEBRATION OF THE I. O. O. F.)The night cometh swiftly, the thick clouds are drifting Around the ...
She is not dead, but sleepeth.—Luke 8:52.She is not dead, she's sleepingThe dreamless sleep and drear;Her friends are gathered weepingRound ...
'CAN it be good to die?' you question, friend; 'Can it be good to die, and move alongStill circling round ...
Come you living or dead to me, out of the silt of the Past,With the sweet of the piteous first, ...
I.WEEP not for him that dieth-- For he sleeps, and is at rest; And the couch whereon he lieth Is ...
SPIK'D reed and golden Iris bending over Low-running streams, and that small pleading flower We none of us forget, with ...
Father, Most High, be with us,Unseen, Thy goodness showing,And Christ the Word Incarnate,And Spirit grace bestowing.O Trinity, O OnenessOf light ...
I walk, I only,Not I only wake;Nothing is, this sweet night,But doth couch and wakeFor its love's sake;Everything, this sweet ...
WHERE Beauty is smiling With Love undenied,Where Gladness is flowing From Pleasure's hill-side,Whatever of charming I elsewhere ...
Lie down upon the ground, thou hopeless one!Press thy face in the grass, and do not speak.Dost feel the green ...
Below the thunders of the upper deep,Far far beneath in the abysmal sea,His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleepThe Kraken sleepeth: faintest ...
Dead art thou? No more dead than was the maidOver whose couch the saving God did stand—"She is not dead ...
Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse! O first-born on the mountains! by the hues Of heaven on the spiritual ...
[Goethe says of this ode, that it is the only one remaining out of several strange hymns and dithyrambs composed ...
They who tread the path of labor follow where My feet have trod; They who work without complaining, do the ...
PART I 'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock And the owls have awakened the crowing cock; Tu-whit!- ...
I LEFT thee last, a child at heart, A woman scarce in years: I come to thee, a solemn corpse ...
How he sleepeth! having drunken Weary childhood's mandragore, From his pretty eyes have sunken Pleasures, to make room for more--- ...
Ring out your bells, let mourning shows be spread; For Love is dead-- All love is dead, infected With plague ...
How oft has the Benshee cried, How oft has death untied Bright links that Glory wove, Sweet bonds entwined by ...
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