File:The courtship of Miles Standish and other poems (1910) (14775772491).jpg

Identifier: courtshipofmiles00long7 (find matches)
Title: The courtship of Miles Standish and other poems
Year: 1910 (1910s)
Authors: Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 1807-1882
Subjects: Standish, Myles, 1584?-1656
Publisher: New York, Grosset & Dunlap
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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annot withstand One touch of that magic wand. Bear through sorrow, wrong and ruth.In thy heart the dew of youth.On thy lips the smile of truth. O, that dew, like balm, shall stealInto wounds that cannot heal.Even as sleep our eyes doth seal; And that smile, like sunshine, dartInto many a sunless heart,For a smile of God thou art. THE SKELETON IN ARMOR. Speak! speak! thou fearful guest!Who, with thy hollow breastStill in rude armor drest, Comest to daunt me!Wrapt not in Eastern balms,But with thy fleshless palmsStretched, as if asking alms. Why dost thou haunt me? Then, from those cavernous eyesPale flashes seemed to rise,As when the Northern skies Gleam in December;And, like the waters flowUnder Decembers snow,Came a dull voice of woe From the hearts chamber. I was a Viking old! My deeds, though manifold, No Skald in song has told. No Saga taught thee!Take heed, that in thy verse THE SKELETON IN ARMOR 125 Thou dost the tale rehearse,Else dread a dead mans curse;For this I sought thee.
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126 THE SKELETON IN ARMOR *Tar in the Northern land,By the wild Baltics strand,I, with my childish hand, Tamed the gerfalcon;And, with my skates fast-bound.Skimmed the half-frozen Sound,That the poor whimpering hound, Trembled to walk on. Oft to his frozen lairTracked I the grizzly bear.While from my path the hare Fled like a shadow;Oft through the forest darkFollowed the were-wolfs bark,Until the soaring lark Sang from the meadow. *But when I older grew.Joining a corsairs crew.Oer the dark sea I flewWith the marauders.Wild was the life we led;Many the souls that sped.Many the hearts that bled,By our stern orders. THE SKELETON IN ARMOR 127 Many a wassail-boutWore the long Winter out;Often our midnight shout Set the cocks crowing,As we the Berserks taleMeasured in cups of ale,Draining the oaken pail, Filled to oerflowing. Once as I told in gleeTales of the stormy sea.Soft eyes did gaze on me, Burning yet tender;And as the white stars shineOn the dark Norway pine,On that dark heart of m

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