Songs from Bohemia

Daniel O'Connell

Songs from Bohemia
Format
Hardback
Publisher
Kessinger Publishing
Country
United States
Published
1 August 2007
Pages
244
ISBN
9780548419786

Songs from Bohemia

Daniel O'Connell

Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: Who, then, shall sit in endless gloom, The shadow of the soul within, And brood on ruin, wrong, and sin, And let the vapors of the tomb Embrace him like a cerement, When Nature’s summer sacrament Awaits him in the field and wood,? Is for him by the shining flood To stir the current of his blood, And bid him look above and praise The Power that guides, nor ever strays From clemency to us, but makes This summer landscape for our sakes? Then, weary toilers, put aside The petty schemes, the nets you weave With thoughts of hate and jealous pride, And hand in hand walk forth with May, And drink the incense of the breeze, And list the lessons of the trees, And live in peace one perfect day. GUI BONO? As A traveler belated, who still follows The windings of the wood, and hopes to see At length, beyond the dense and tangled hollows, The dying sun illume the open lea, But meets, instead, thick brake and growing shadows, Then sinks upon the damp and trackless clay, And, weary, dreams of open fragrant meadows, And wakes and sleeps, and longs and moans for day, Is he, who stored with wealth of garnered learning, Would solve the mystery that wraps him round, And dream that unswayed science, cold, discerning, Can pass beyond this clay-encircled bound. He reads the stars, he measures every distance That lies between each planet and the earth; The globe itself can offer no resistance, But yields to him the story of its birth. But when he grapples with his own soul’s mystery, A wall unyielding rears its bulk between; 12 Cut Bono? All else surrenders long-restrained history, This only stands a grim, impervious screen. We live, we die ? so much, no more, is given: From dust we spring, return again to dust. And ties are made, and dearer ties a…

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