O friend—see the lightning there! it flickered, and now is gone, as though flashed a pair of hands in the pillar of crownéd cloud.
Nay, was it its blaze, or the lamps of a hermit that dwells alone, and pours o'er the twisted wicks the oil from his slender cruse?
We sat there, my fellows and I, twixt Darij and al-Udhaib, and gazed as the distance gloomed, and waited its oncoming.

The right of its mighty rain advanced over Katan's ridge: the left of its trailing skirt swept Yadhbul and as-Sitar;

Late in the month a rough east wind had sway,
The old trees thunder'd, and the dust was blown;
But other powers possess'd the night and day,
And soon he found he could not hold his own;
The merry ruddock whistled at his heart,
And strenuous blackbirds pierced his flanks with song,
Pert sparrows wrangled o'er his every part,
And thro' him shot the larks on pinions strong:
Anon a sunbeam broke across the plain,
And the wild bee went forth on booming wing—
Whereat he feeble wax'd, but rose again
With aimless rage, and idle blustering;

a white chrysanthemum—
how strange to see it
bloom in the sun

Fair are the Springtide features of the hills—
Glorious their Summer aspect of repose—
Calm in Autumnal hues their shadowy forms—
But not less beautiful when Winter fills—
Their wild untrodden solitudes; and throws
Around them all the grandeur of its storms!
Such are my musings on the craggy crown
Of Oldermann, the sterile, stern, and cold,
As days sink sloping to the evening hour;
Round my proud centre mountain regions frown,
Abrupt and lone, wherein my eyes behold
Gigantic proofs of God's unmeasured power,

Strange! that such horror and such grace
Should dwell together in one place;
A fury's arm, an angel's face!

'Tis innocence, and youth, which makes
In Chloris' fancy such mistakes,
To start at love, and play with snakes.

By this and by her coldness barred,
Her servants have a task too hard;
The tyrant has a double guard!

Thrice happy snake! that in her sleeve
May boldly creep; we dare not give
Our thoughts so unconfined a leave.

Contented in that nest of snow
He lies, as he his bliss did know,
And to the wood no more would go.

Oh, sing all de way, my Lord,
Hear de angels singin'.

We're marchin up to hebben, it's a happy time; Hear…
An' Jesus is on-a de middle line; Hear…
Dem-a Christians take up too much time; Hear…
Dey're idlin' on dat battle line; Hear…

Now all things well, an' I don't dread hell;
I am goin' up to hebben, where my Jesus dwell;
For de angels are callin' me away;
An' I must go, I cannot stay.

Now take your Bible, an' read it through;
An' ebery word you'll find is true;
For in dat Bible you will see;
Dat Jesus died for you an' me.

The Mina stream comes tumbling down
From Mount Tsukuba's height;
Strong as my love, it leaps into
A pool as black as night
With overwhelming might.

Replacing the rays
of late sun
that streamed in the window,
shedding a different light:
an early evening moon

Prester John on his lands looked down
He bore in one mystery mitre and crown,
And the scaly webs of the strange attire
Stripped from the dragon that feeds on fire,
And high over luminous rocks and trees
And the purple fish of his secret seas
And the whole sprawled map of the magical place,
A crystal mirror before his face
For ever stood; in whose circle shone
The world and all that is done thereon.

And the Seven Kings by his throne that stand
Cried, “Tell us the news from the Holy Land.”

“Richard the King, of the scarlet ships,

The spring was mild, the air was warm,
All green the things upon the farm,
The corn put forth its tender sprout,
The daffodils came bursting out;
Above the hedge, in skimming flight,
The blackbird hardly touched the light,
Whilst in the meadows lush and green
The lambs and foals at play were seen,
When suddenly the wind turned round
And blew across from “Deadman's Ground”
(Where Farmer Rogers caught his wife
And killed her with a carving knife).
The oldest labourers about,
Who read the weather inside out,
Say, when it comes from out that quarter,