The Poems of Henry Van Dyke

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C. Scribner's sons, 1913 - 467 էջ

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Էջ 170 - I know that Europe's wonderful, yet something seems to lack; The Past is too much with her, and the people looking back. But the glory of the Present is to make the Future free, — We love our land for what she is and what she is to be.
Էջ 360 - FOUR things a man must learn to do If he would make his record true: To think without confusion clearly; To love his fellow-men sincerely; To act from honest motives purely; To trust in God and Heaven securely.
Էջ 370 - He that planteth a tree is a servant of God, He provideth a kindness for many generations, And faces that he hath not seen shall bless him.
Էջ 5 - When tulips bloom in Union Square, And timid breaths of vernal air Go wandering down the dusty town, Like children lost in Vanity Fair; When every long unlovely row Of westward houses stands aglow, And leads the eyes...
Էջ 169 - I've had enough of antiquated things. So it's home again, and home again, America for me! My heart is turning home again, and there I long to be, In the land of youth and freedom beyond the ocean bars, Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars.
Էջ 63 - On all the brightness of the common day. /These are the things I prize \And hold of dearest worth : Light of the sapphire skies, Peace of the silent hills, Shelter of forests, comfort of the grass, Music of birds, murmur of little rills, Shadow of clouds that swiftly pass, And, after showers, The smell of flowers And of the good brown earth, — And best of all, along the way, friendship and mirth.
Էջ 341 - Time is Too Slow for those who Wait, Too Swift for those who Fear, Too Long for those who Grieve, Too Short for those who Rejoice; But for those who Love, Time is not.
Էջ 62 - Strength for the daily task, Courage to face the road, Good cheer to help me bear the traveller's load, And, for the hours of rest that come between, An inward joy in all things heard and seen. These are the sins I fain Would have thee take away: Malice, and cold disdain, Hot anger, sullen hate, Scorn of the lowly, envy of the great, And discontent that casts a shadow gray On all the brightness of the common day.
Էջ 258 - Let me but do my work from day to day, In field or forest, at the desk or loom, In roaring market place or tranquil room ; Let me but find it in my heart to say, When vagrant wishes beckon me astray, "This is my work; my blessing, not my doom; Of all who live, I am the one by whom This work can best be done in the right way.
Էջ 9 - The phantom flood of dreams has ebbed and vanished with the dark, And like a dove the heart forsakes the prison of the ark ; Now forth she fares through friendly woods and diamondfields of dew, While every voice cries out ' ' Rejoice ! " as if the world were new. This is the ballad the Bluebird sings, Unto his mate replying, Shaking the tune from his wings While he is flying : Surely, surely, surely, Life is dear Even here. Blue above, You...

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