Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The prayer of Ajax was for light;
Through all that dark and desperate fight,
The blackness of read more

The prayer of Ajax was for light;
Through all that dark and desperate fight,
The blackness of that noonday night.

This is the forest primeval.

This is the forest primeval.

The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
. . . .
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The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
. . . .
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.

For bells are the voice of the church;
They have tones that touch and search
The hearts read more

For bells are the voice of the church;
They have tones that touch and search
The hearts of young and old.

The star of the unconquered will,
He rises in my breast,
Serene, and resolute, and still,
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The star of the unconquered will,
He rises in my breast,
Serene, and resolute, and still,
And calm, and self-possessed.