large/1281/shortpoetry_026_librivox_64kb_mp3/excelsior_longfellow_sv_64kb_0
large/1281/shortpoetry_026_librivox_64kb_mp3/excelsior_longfellow_sv_64kb
English
1281
There, in the twilight cold and gray,Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay,And from the sky, serene and far,A voice fell, like a falling star,Excelsior! THERE IN THE TWILIGHT COLD AND GREY LIFELESS BUT BEAUTIFUL HE LAY AND FROM THE SKY SERENE AND FAR A VOICE FELL LIKE A FALLING STAR EXCELSIOR
alchion from its sheath,And like a silver clarion rungThe accents of that unknown tongue,Excelsior!In happy homes he saw the lightOf household fires gleam warm and bright;Above, the spectral glaciers shone,And from his lips escaped a groan,Excelsior!“Try not the Pass!” the old man said;“Dark lowers the tempest overhead,The roaring torrent is deep and wide!”And loud that clarion voice replied,Excelsior!“Oh, stay,” the maiden said, “and restThy weary head upon this breast!”A tear stood in his bright blue eye,But still he answered, with a sigh,Excelsior!“Beware the pine-tree’s withered branch!Beware the awful avalanche!”This was the peasant’s last Good-night,A voice replied, far up the height,Excelsior!At break of day, as heavenwardThe pious monks of Saint BernardUttered the oft-repeated prayer,A voice cried through the startled air,Excelsior!A traveller, by the faithful hound,Half-buried in the snow was found,Still grasping in his hand of iceThat banner with the strange device,Excelsior! SHED LIKE A FALSCHION FROM ITS SHEATH AND LIKE A SILVER CLARION RUNG THE ACCENTS OF THAT UNKNOWN TONGUE EXCELSIOR IN HAPPY HOMES HE SAW THE LIGHT OF HOUSEHOLD FIRES GLEAM WARM AND BRIGHT ABOVE THE SPECTRAL GLACIERS SHONE AND FROM HIS LIPS ESCAPED A GROAN EXCELSIOR TRY NOT THE PATHS THE OLD MAN SAID DARK LOW IS THE TEMPEST OVERHEAD THE ROARING TORRENT IS DEEP AND WIDE AND LOUD THAT CLARION VOICE REPLIED EXCELSIOR OH STAY THE MAIDEN SAID AND REST THY WEARY HEAD UPON THIS BREAST A TEAR STOOD IN HIS BRIGHT BLUE EYE BUT STILL HE ANSWERED WITH A SIGH EXCELSIOR BEWARE THE PINE TREES WITHERED BRANCH BEWARE THE AWFUL AVALANCHE THIS WAS THE PEASANT'S LAST GOOD NIGHT A VOICE REPLIED FAR UP THE HEIGHT EXCELSIOR AT BREAK OF DAY AS HEAVENWARD THE PIOUS MONKS OF SAINT BERNARD UTTERED THE OFT REPEATED PRAYER A VOICE CRIED THROUGH THE STARTLED AIR EXCELSIOR A TRAVELLER BY THE FAITHFUL HOUND HALF BURIED IN THE SNOW WAS FOUND STILL GRASPING IN HIS HAND OF ICE THAT BANNER WITH THE STRANGE DEVICE EXCELSIOR
large/1281/shortpoetry_026_librivox_64kb_mp3/excelsior_longfellow_sv_64kb
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