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Theirs is no vulgar sepulchre-green sodsAre all their monument, and yet it tellsA nobler history than pillared pilesOr the eternal pyramids.
James Gates Percival -
On thy fair bosom, silver lake, The wild swan spreads his snowy sail,And round his breast the ripples break As down he bears before the gale.
James Gates Percival
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The world is full of poetry. The air is living with its spirit; and the waves dance to the music of its melodies, and sparkle in its brightness.
James Gates Percival -
There are moments of life that we never forget, which brighten and brighten as time steals away.
James Gates Percival -
The water is calm and still below, For the winds and waves are absent there,And the sands are bright as the stars that glow In the motionless fields of upper air.
James Gates Percival -
Hail to the land whereon we tread,Our fondest boast! The sepulchres of mighty dead,The truest hearts that ever bled,Who sleep on glory’s brightest bed, A fearless host:No slave is here:-our unchained feet,Walk freely as the waves that beatOur coast.
James Gates Percival