File:The poetical works of Edmund Clarence Stedman (1888) (14785013825).jpg

Identifier: poeticalworksof00sted (find matches)
Title: The poetical works of Edmund Clarence Stedman
Year: 1888 (1880s)
Authors: Stedman, Edmund Clarence, 1833-1908
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Publisher: Boston and New York, Houghton, Mifflin and company
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: The Library of Congress

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its fastenings. On a rustic bier,Made of loose boughs and strewn with winter ferns,We placed them, side by side, and bore them home.The old man walked behind them, by himself,And wrung his hands and bowed his head in tears. So Gilbert told his story ; I, meanwhile,Followed his fingers pointing, as it markedEach spot he mentioned, like a teachers wand.But now the sun hung low ; from many a fieldThe loitering kine went home with tinkling bells.Slow-turning, toward the farm we made our way,And met a host of maidens, merry-eyed,Whom I knew not, yet caught a frequent glanceI seemed to know, that half-way brought to mindSweet eyes I loved to watch in school-boy days, —Sweet sister-eyes to those that glistened now. THE SLEIGH-RIDE. H ARK ! the jingleOf the sleigh-bells song !Earth and air in snowy sheen commingle; Swiftly throngNorseland fancies, as we sail along. Like the maidenOf some fairy-tale,Lying, spell-bound, in her diamond-laden Bridal veil,Sleeps the Earth beneath a garment pale.
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Hark! the jingleOf the sleigh-bells song. 56. THE SLEIGH-RIDE. High above usGleams the ancient moon,Gleam the eyes of shining ones that love us : Could their tuneOnly fill our ears at heavens noon, You and I, love,With a wild delight,Hearing that seraphic strain would die, love, This same night,Straight to join them in their starry height! Closer nestle,Dearest, to my side.What enchantment, in our magic vessel Thus to glide,Making music, on a silver tide ! Jingle ! jingle !How the fields go by !Earth and air in snowy sheen commingle, Far and nigh ;Is the ground beneath us, or the sky ? Heavenward yonder,In the lurid north,From Valhallas gates that roll asunder, Red and wroth,Balders funeral flames are blazing forth. O, what splendor !How the hues expire !All the elves of light their tribute render To the pyre,Clad in robes of gold and crimson fire.3* 57 58 EARLY POEMS. Jingle ! jingle!Let the Earth go by !With a wilder thrill our pulses tingle; You and IWill shout our loves, but aye f

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