Far and wide among the nations Spread the name and fame of Kwasi… No man dared to strive with Kwasi… No man could compete with Kwasind… But the mischievous Puk-Wudjies,

There was a time when I was very… When my whole frame was but an ell… Sweetly, as I recall it, tears do… And therefore I recall it with de… I sported in my tender mother’s ar…

How they so softly rest, All they the holy ones, Unto whose dwelling-place Now doth my soul draw near! How they so softly rest,

O gift of God! O perfect day: Whereon shall no man work, but pla… Whereon it is enough for me, Not to be doing, but to be! Through every fibre of my brain,

I know a maiden fair to see, Take care! She can both false and friendly be… Beware! Beware! Trust her not,

Four by the clock! and yet not day… But the great world rolls and whee… With its cities on land, and its s… Into the dawn that is to be! Only the lamp in the anchored bark

Loudly the sailors cheered Svend of the Forked Beard, As with his fleet he steered Southward to Vendland; Where with their courses hauled

A vision as of crowded city street… With human life in endless overflo… Thunder of thoroughfares; trumpets… To battle; clamor, in obscure retr… Of sailors landed from their ancho…

I am the God Thor, I am the War God, I am the Thunderer! Here in my Northland, My fastness and fortress,

I heard a voice, that cried, ‘Balder the Beautiful Is dead, is dead!’ And through the misty air Passed like the mournful cry

Whene’er a noble deed is wrought, Whene’er is spoken a noble thought… Our hearts, in glad surprise, To higher levels rise. The tidal wave of deeper souls

Short of stature, large of limb, Burly face and russet beard, All the women stared at him, When in Iceland he appeared. ‘Look!’ they said,

The summer sun is sinking low; Only the tree-tops redden and glow… Only the weathercock on the spire Of the neighboring church is a fla… All is in shadow below.

STARS of the summer night! Far in yon azure deeps, Hide, hide your golden light! She sleeps! My lady sleeps!

The brooklet came from the mountai… As sang the bard of old, Running with feet of silver Over the sands of gold! Far away in the briny ocean