Friday, March 30, 2007

Hymn to the Night

I HEARD the trailing garments of the NightSweep through her marble halls!

I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light From the celestial walls!

I felt her presence, by its spell of might, Stoop o'er me from above;

The calm, majestic presence of the Night, As of the one I love.

I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, The manifold, soft chimes,

That fill the haunted chambers of the Night, Like some old poet's rhymes.

From the cool cisterns of the midnight airMy spirit drank repose;

The fountain of perpetual peace flows there,

--From those deep cisterns flows.O holy Night! from thee I learn to bear

What man has borne before!

Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care,

And thy complain no more.

Peace! Peace! Orestes-like I breathe this prayer!

Descend, with broad-winged flight,

The welcome, the thrice-prayed for, the most fair,

The best-beloved Night!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Friday, March 02, 2007

Out of the Valley of the West, upon their snow-white steeds,
and into ancient legends passed bright men with shining deeds.
Their heralds, made of cloth-of-gold trailed bright banners
in the seaward breeze that spoke of hoary years of old
and a history of times unseen.

Bright Kings of aeons past were they,
who ruled beyond the Western Sea and slew great daemons,
and lived with fey in years of unknown centuries.
Their look was wise, their carriage proud,
their armour held a starry sheen,
their aged trumpets echoed loud as they rode in from the Sea.

Through hanging forests, deep and cold upon a winding,
unknown trailthey rode- noble, proud and bold.
Dark were the shadows upon their mail;
bright were their eyes and deep their brows,
their hair was gold, their faces pale-
they passed through grove and under boughout of the West,
where dreamships sail.