3371 pe, should mar not s rapture in a vision. rowning [1806-1861] allswb: sw nolli him asw ongoba dly throng; heb od b e be,most boy ut a fight; e? 13 baption s gloomy sight ed the visions came avern close, and sorrow thin, st morose, hope within, course hath been gh still severe, wavering days of sin, te and clear. 21-2181] is haggard look ad once, forlorn, he strayed, Where, as the Benedictine laid Peace dwells not here this rugged face The sullen warrior sole we trace, Such was his mien when first arose The thought of that strange tale divine— Dread scourge of many a guilty line. War to the last he waged with all O Time! whose verdicts mock our own, DICKENS IN CAMP [1812-1870] ABOVE the pines the moon was slowly drifting, The river sang below; The dim Sierras, far beyond, uplifting Their minarets of snow. And on that grave where English oak and holly Deem it not all a too presumptuous folly This spray of Western pine! Bret Harte [1839-1902] DRAKE'S DRUM [SIR FRANCIS DRAKE, 1540?-1596] DRAKE he's in his hammock an' a thousand mile away, Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay, An' the shore-lights flashin', an' the night-tide dashin', Drake he was a Devon man, an' ruled the Devon seas, Rovin' though his death fell, he went wi' heart at ease, If the Dons sight Devon, I'll quit the port o' Heaven, Drake he's in his hammock till the great Armadas come, (Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?), Slung atween the round shot, listenin' for the drum, Where the old trade's plyin' an' the old flag flyin', They shall find him ware an' wakin', as they found him long ago! Henry Newbolt [1862 |