Poems . he old clock on the stair,— Forever—never ! Never—forever! All are scattered now and fled,Some are married, some are dead;And when I ask, with throbs of pain, Ah! when shall they all meet again ?As in the days long since gone by,The ancient timepiece makes reply,— Forever—never ! Never—forever! Never here, forever there,Where all parting, pain, and care,And death, and time shall disappear,-Forever there, but never here ! THE ARROW AND THE SONG. 227 The horologe of EternitySayeth this incessantly,— Forever—never! Never—forever! THE ABEOW AND THE SONG. I shot an arrow into the air,It fel
Image details
Contributor:
The Reading Room / Alamy Stock PhotoImage ID:
2AKNG02File size:
7.1 MB (679.9 KB Compressed download)Releases:
Model - no | Property - noDo I need a release?Dimensions:
1646 x 1517 px | 27.9 x 25.7 cm | 11 x 10.1 inches | 150dpiMore information:
This image is a public domain image, which means either that copyright has expired in the image or the copyright holder has waived their copyright. Alamy charges you a fee for access to the high resolution copy of the image.
This image could have imperfections as it’s either historical or reportage.
Poems . he old clock on the stair, — Forever—never ! Never—forever! All are scattered now and fled, Some are married, some are dead;And when I ask, with throbs of pain, Ah! when shall they all meet again ?As in the days long since gone by, The ancient timepiece makes reply, — Forever—never ! Never—forever! Never here, forever there, Where all parting, pain, and care, And death, and time shall disappear, -Forever there, but never here ! THE ARROW AND THE SONG. 227 The horologe of EternitySayeth this incessantly, — Forever—never! Never—forever! THE ABEOW AND THE SONG. I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where;For, so swiftly it flew, the sightCould not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where;For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song ? Long, long afterward, in an oakI found the arrow, still unbroke ;And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend. i sit m. SONNETS. AUTUMN. Thou comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain, With banners, by great gales incessant fanned, Brighter than brightest silks of Samarcand, And stately oxen harnessed to thy wain! THE EVENING STAR. 229 Thou standest, like imperial Charlemagne, Upon thy bridge of gold ; thy royal handOutstretched with benedictions oer the land, Blessing the farms through all thy vast domain!Thy shield is the red harvest moon, suspendedSo long beneath the heavens oerhanging eaves, Thy steps are by the farmers prayers attended ;Like flames upon an altar shine the sheaves;And, following thee, in thy ovation splendid, Thine almoner, the wind, scatters the golden leaves! THE EVENING STAR. Lo! in the painted oriel of the West, Whose panes the sunken sun incarnadines, Like a fair lady at her casement, shines The evening star, the star of love and rest! And then anon she doth herself divest Of all her radiant garments, and reclines Behind the sombre screen of yonder pines, With slumber and soft dre