English

Come the little clouds out of the Ice-Caves,
Bringing rain and snow.
They come because we call them;
They come because we ask them;
They come because the Spider-Woman loves us;
Come the little clouds out of the Northland!

Our yellow meal we throw to the sky.
It is our offering to the gods.

We have placed the images of clay,
Shaped like desert toads, by the water-courses,
To guide the water along the canals,
That it may flow over our fields.
Come the little clouds out of the Ice-Caves,

Come swallow your bumpers, ye Tories , and roar
That the Sons of fair Freedom are hamper'd once more;
But know that no Cut-throats our spirits can tame,
Nor a host of Oppressors shall smother the flame.
 In Freedom we're born, and, like Sons of the brave,
  Will never surrender,
  But swear to defend her,
 And scorn to survive, if unable to save.

Our grandsires, bless'd heroes, we'll give them a tear,
Nor sully their honors by stooping to fear;
Through deaths and through dangers their Trophies they won,

Come, Spirit of Thy Holy Love,
Into this poor life of mine,
Make Thou in me Thy dwelling place
That I'll be wholly Thine.

Help me to live for others, Lord,
That they will plainly see
The beauty of Thy Holy Life,
Reflected, Lord, in me.

Then when I stand before Thee, Lord
And lay my trophies down,
Wilt Thou receive them, Lord of grace,
And give to me a crown?

Come , see the Dolphin's anchor forged! 'tis at a white heat now —
The bellows ceased, the flames decreased; though, on the forge's brow,
The little flames still fitfully play through the sable mound,
And fitfully you still may see the grim smiths ranking round;
All clad in leathern panoply, their broad hands only bare,
Some rest upon their sledges here, some work the windlass there.

The windlass strains the tackle-chains — the black mold heaves below;
And red and deep, a hundred veins burst out at every throe.

Come sail with me o'er the golden sea
To the land where the rainbow ends,
Where the rainbow ends,
And the great earth bends
To the weight of the starry sky,
Where the tempests die with a last fierce cry,
And never a wind is wild.
There's a Mother mild, with a little Child
Like a star set on her knee;
When bow you down, give him the crown —
'Tis the Lord of the World you see.

Come sail with me o'er the golden sea
To the land where the rainbow ends,
Where the rainbow ends,
And the great earth bends

Come rude Boreas, blustering railer, list ye landsmen all to me,
Shipmates hear a brother sailor sing of the dangers of the sea.
From bounding billows, first in motion, when the distant whirlwinds rise,
To the tempest-troubled ocean, when the skies contend with skies.

Hark the bosun's hoarsely bawlin', by tops'l sheets an' halyards stand,
Down t'gans'ls quick be haulin', down yer stays'ls, hard, boys, hard!
See it freshens, set taut the braces, tops'ls sheets now let her go,
Luff, boys, luff, don't make wry faces, up yer tops'ls nimbly clew.

Come, rouse up, ye bold-hearted Whigs of Kentucky,
And show the nation what deeds you can do;
The high-road to victory lies open before ye
While led to the charge by Old Tippecanoe.

When Indians were scalping our friends and our brothers,
To Ohio's frontier he gallantly flew;
And thousands of innocent infants, and mothers,
Were saved by the valor of Tippecanoe.

When savage Tecumseh was rallying his forces,

1. Come precious soul, and let us take A walk becoming you and me,
2. O Calvary is a mountain high; 'Tis much too hard a task for me,
And whither, my friend, shall we our footsteps bend, To Calvary or to
And I had rather stay in the broad and pleasant way Than to walk in the garden of
Gethsemane? 3. O conscience! thou art ever making a noise, I
Gethsemane. 4. O tarry not in all the plain, Lest it
cannot enjoy any peace for thee, There is time enough yet, and the
prove a dangerous snare to thee, But look up to the man who was

1

Come, pass about the bowl to me,
A health to our distressed King;
Though we're in hold, let cups go free,
Birds in a cage may freely sing
The ground does tipple healths apace,
When stormes do fall, and shall not we?
A sorrow dares not shew its face,
When we are ships and sack's the sea.

2

Pox on this grief, hang wealth, let's sing,
Shall's kill our selves for fear of death?

(W ATER'S Mouth )

I saw a little stream to-day
That sprang right away
From the cornice of rock —
Sprang like a deer, not slid;
And the Tritons to mock —
Old dissolute Tritons — " Hurroo! "
They said, " We'll teach him a thing or two,
This upland babe. " And I've no doubt they did.
But, as he lightly fell, midway
His robe of bright spray
He flung in my face,
Then down to the soles and the cods
With his sweet young grace.
Ah, what will the stripling learn,