Wanderers
Wide are the meadows of night,
And daisies are shining there,
Tossing their lovely dews,
Lustrous and fair;
And through these sweet fields go,
Wanderers amid the stars —
Venus, Mercury, Uranus, Neptune,
Saturn, Jupiter, Mars.
‘Tired in their silver, they move,
And circling, whisper and say,
Fair are the blossoming meads of delight
Through which we stray.
MANY A MICKLE
A little sound —-
Only a little, a little —-
The breath in a reed,
A trembling fiddle;
A trumpet’s ring,
The shuddering drum;
So all the glory, bravery, hush
Of music come.
A little sound —-
Only a stir and a sigh
Of each green leaf
Its fluttering neighbor by;
Oak on to oak,
The wide dark forest through —-
So o’er the watery wheeling world
The night winds go.
A little sound,
Only a little, a little —-
The thin high drone
Of the simmering kettle,
The gathering frost,
The click of needle and thread;
Mother, the fading wall, the dream,
The drowsy bed.