08 Mar 2018 @ 2:02 AM 

Love, Reign O”er Me


English Poetry III: From Love, Reign O’er Me to Whitman. Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.

Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest. Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman? Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven? Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers forever departed!

Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful village of Grand-Pré. List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the happy. Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without number. There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the Acadian village. Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the reign of the Henries. Over the basement below protected and shaded the doorway. Mingled their sounds with the whir of the wheels and the songs of the maidens.

Paused in their play to kiss the hand he extended to bless them. Hailing his slow approach with words of affectionate welcome. Down to his rest, and twilight prevailed. Rose from a hundred hearths, the homes of peace and contentment. Dwelt in the love of God and of man.

Fear, that reigns with the tyrant, and envy, the vice of republics. There the richest was poor, and the poorest lived in abundance. Gentle Evangeline lived, his child, and the pride of the village. White as the snow were his locks, and his cheeks as brown as the oak-leaves. Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen summers. Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the brown shade of her tresses!

Tags Categories: Master Tape Posted By: admin
Last Edit: 08 Mar 2018 @ 02 02 AM

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