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قراءة كتاب Out of the North
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 3
short-lived. The days of the bird and the flower and the rippling creeks are numbered. Soon the sky turns grey, the wind chants the sun's requiem, the snow falls; and then returns the cold, the gloom, the feeling of isolation, the indescribable terror.
I heard these songs sung in the Arctic, the singer at my side—these songs of nature, songs of hope, home, heart. They seem a part of my life. I heard them as the cry of a lone bird in the vast silence of eternal snows.
JOAQUIN MILLER
The Heights, Cal.
Nov. 15th '99
Nov. 15th '99
The Northern Light
Who drapes that mystic veil across that everbrooding sky?
Who hues it with a soul of pearl? Who draws it to and fro?
Who breathes upon it with the breath that makes it glow and die,
Lighting that crystal river, those mountains cowl'd with snow?
Who hues it with a soul of pearl? Who draws it to and fro?
Who breathes upon it with the breath that makes it glow and die,
Lighting that crystal river, those mountains cowl'd with snow?
In Winter
Beneath the snow the mosses sleep
Amid the forest's silence;
Above, the stately birches keep
Unbroken vigils.
Amid the forest's silence;
Above, the stately birches keep
Unbroken vigils.
The spruce trees dream of summer hours
And birds that carrolled sweetly,
Of gentle winds and smiling flowers
That died too quickly.
And birds that carrolled sweetly,
Of gentle winds and smiling flowers
That died too quickly.
Lyric
Tell me, tell me, gentle stars,
Ever watchful, ever bright,
From your stations in the sky
Do you see my love to-night?
Ever watchful, ever bright,
From your stations in the sky
Do you see my love to-night?
White the snow beneath my feet,
Whiter far her holy breast;
Peaceful are the mighty woods,
But her eyes are soft with rest.
Whiter far her holy breast;
Peaceful are the mighty woods,
But her eyes are soft with rest.
Sweet the scent of spruce and pine,
Sweeter, though, her fragrant breath;
Tell her, tell her, gentle stars,
I am hers alone till death.
Sweeter, though, her fragrant breath;
Tell her, tell her, gentle stars,
I am hers alone till death.
Dark Days
The sun has left his throne,
The sky is leaden-hued;
The hopeless winds bemoan,
In icy aisles, their fate.
The sky is leaden-hued;
The hopeless winds bemoan,
In icy aisles, their fate.
All day the shadows press
About the forest's nuns,
That dream in loneliness
Their dreams of birds and spring.
About the forest's nuns,
That dream in loneliness
Their dreams of birds and spring.
The Unanswerable
O sombre skies that ever mourn,
O silent skies so grey and stern,
Are ye the curtains of that bourne
Where we at last our fate must learn?
O silent skies so grey and stern,
Are ye the curtains of that bourne
Where we at last our fate must learn?
Is it behind your gloomy veil