In his tulip-garden there by the town, A smile in his gray mustachio lurks The windmills on the outermost But when the winter rains begin, He sits and smokes by the blazing brands, And old sea-faring men come in, Goat-bearded, gray, and with double chin, And rings upon their hands. They sit there in the shadow and shine Of the flickering fire of the winter night; Figures in color and design Like those by Rembrandt of the Rhine, And they talk of their ventures lost or won, From the cellars of some Spanish Don, Restless at times with heavy strides Voices mysterious far and near, Sound of the wind and sound of the sea, So he thinks he shall take to the sea again And sell him in Algiers. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. TO Hoorn. THE SHIPS OF HOORN. heroes Hoorn has given birth, And gallant souls to man her fleets; The produce of her faithful earth In distant lands a market meets. HF Leyden. ROBINSON AT LEYDEN. sleeps not here; in hope and prayer His wandering flock had gone before, But he, the shepherd, might not share Their sorrows on the wintry shore. Before the Speedwell's anchor swung, Ere yet the Mayflower's sail was spread, While round his feet the Pilgrims clung, The pastor spake, and thus he said: "Men, brethren, sisters, children dear! "Ye go to bear the saving word To tribes unnamed and shores untrod: Heed well the lessons ye have heard "Yet think not unto them was lent "The living fountain overflows For every flock, for every lamb, Nor heeds, though angry creeds oppose, : He spake with lingering, long embrace, They passed the frowning towers of Briel, No home for these! too well they knew And westward ho! for worlds unknown. And these were they who gave us birth, Who won for us this virgin earth, And freedom with the soil they gave. |