Hasten, children, black and white
Celebrate the yearly rite.
Every pupil plant a tree:
It will grow some day to be
Big and strong enough to bear
A School Director hanging there.
Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?
How often in our search for joy below
Hoping for happiness we chance on woe.
884
As Everywhere of Silver
With Ropes of Sand
To keep it from effacing
The Track called Land.
852
Apology for Her
Be rendered by the Bee—
Herself, without a Parliament
Apology for Me.
Modest men must needs endure,
And the bold must humbly bow;
Thus thy fate's the same, be sure,
Whether bold or modest thou.
As banked clouds
are swept apart by the wind,
at dawn the sudden cry
of the first wild geese
winging across the mountains.
Long since I came into the school of Art,
A child in works, but not a child in heart.
Slowly I learn, by her instruction mild,
To be in works a man, in heart a child.
Kongen opnaae Sneehviid Alder!
Thronen staae, til Verden falder!
Kronen blive Sønne-Arv!
Sværdet hvile! Pennen stride!
Ploven gaae, og Kiølen glide!
O, saa fremmes hver Mands Tarv,
O, saa fremmes hver Mands Tarv.
Under egen Melodie
Verden er et Flyve-Sand;
Sandet blinder os vort Øye,
Sandet volder Foden Møye,
Til vi naaer det faste Land.
