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posseder des serfs； comme d'une chose peu agreable a Dieu； qui
avait cree tous les hommes a son image。THIERRY； Conquete de
l'Angleterre。
In his chamber； weak and dying；
Was the Norman baron lying；
Loud； without； the tempest thundered
And the castle…turret shook；
In this fight was Death the gainer；
Spite of vassal and retainer；
And the lands his sires had plundered；
Written in the Doomsday Book。
By his bed a monk was seated；
Who in humble voice repeated
Many a prayer and pater…noster；
From the missal on his knee；
And； amid the tempest pealing；
Sounds of bells came faintly stealing；
Bells； that from the neighboring kloster
Rang for the Nativity。
In the hall； the serf and vassal
Held； that night their Christmas wassail；
Many a carol； old and saintly；
Sang the minstrels and the waits；
And so loud these Saxon gleemen
Sang to slaves the songs of freemen；
That the storm was heard but faintly；
Knocking at the castle…gates。
Till at length the lays they chanted
Reached the chamber terror…haunted；
Where the monk； with accents holy；
Whispered at the baron's ear。
Tears upon his eyelids glistened；
As he paused awhile and listened；
And the dying baron slowly
Turned his weary head to hear。
〃Wassail for the kingly stranger
Born and cradled in a manger！
King； like David； priest； like Aaron；
Christ is born to set us free！〃
And the lightning showed the sainted
Figures on the casement painted；
And exclaimed the shuddering baron；
〃Miserere； Domine！〃
In that hour of deep contrition
He beheld； with clearer vision；
Through all outward show and fashion；
Justice； the Avenger； rise。
All the pomp of earth had vanished；
Falsehood and deceit were banished；
Reason spake more loud than passion；
And the truth wore no disguise。
Every vassal of his banner；
Every serf born to his manor；
All those wronged and wretched creatures；
By his hand were freed again。
And； as on the sacred missal
He recorded their dismissal；
Death relaxed his iron features；
And the monk replied； 〃Amen！〃
Many centuries have been numbered
Since in death the baron slumbered
By the convent's sculptured portal；
Mingling with the common dust：
But the good deed； through the ages
Living in historic pages；
Brighter grows and gleams immortal；
Unconsumed by moth or rust
RAIN IN SUMMER
How beautiful is the rain！
After the dust and heat；
In the broad and fiery street；
In the narrow lane；
How beautiful is the rain！
How it clatters along the roofs；
Like the tramp of hoofs
How it gushes and struggles out
From the throat of the overflowing spout！
Across the window…pane
It pours and pours；
And swift and wide；
With a muddy tide；
Like a river down the gutter roars
The rain； the welcome rain！
The sick man from his chamber looks
At the twisted brooks；
He can feel the cool
Breath of each little pool；
His fevered brain
Grows calm again；
And he breathes a blessing on the rain。
From the neighboring school
Come the boys；
With more than their wonted noise
And commotion；
And down the wet streets
Sail their mimic fleets；
Till the treacherous pool
Ingulfs them in its whirling
And turbulent ocean。
In the country； on every side；
Where far and wide；
Like a leopard's tawny and spotted hide；
Stretches the plain；
To the dry grass and the drier grain
How welcome is the rain！
In the furrowed land
The toilsome and patient oxen stand；
Lifting the yoke encumbered head；
With their dilated nostrils spread；
They silently inhale
The clover…scented gale；
And the vapors that arise
From the well…watered and smoking soil。
For this rest in the furrow after toil
Their large and lustrous eyes
Seem to thank the Lord；
More than man's spoken word。
Near at hand；
From under the sheltering trees；
The farmer sees
His pastures； and his fields of grain；
As they bend their tops
To the numberless beating drops
Of the incessant rain。
He counts it as no sin
That he sees therein
Only his own thrift and gain。
These； and far more than these；
The Poet sees！
He can behold
Aquarius old
Walking the fenceless fields of air；
And from each ample fold
Of the clouds about him rolled
Scattering everywhere
The showery rain；
As the farmer scatters his grain。
He can behold
Things manifold
That have not yet been wholly told；
Have not been wholly sung nor said。
For his thought； that never stops；
Follows the water…drops
Down to the graves of the dead；
Down through chasms and gulfs profound；
To the dreary fountain…head
Of lakes and rivers under ground；
And sees them； when the rain is done；
On the bridge of colors seven
Climbing up once more to heaven；
Opposite the setting sun。
Thus the Seer；
With vision clear；
Sees forms appear and disappear；
In the perpetual round of strange；
Mysterious change
From birth to death； from death to birth；
From earth to heaven； from heaven to earth；
Till glimpses more sublime
Of things； unseen before；
Unto his wondering eyes reveal
The Universe； as an immeasurable wheel
Turning forevermore
In the rapid and rushing river of Time。
TO A CHILD
Dear child！ how radiant on thy mother's knee；
With merry…making eyes and jocund smiles；
Thou gazest at the painted tiles；
Whose figures grace；
With many a grotesque form and face。
The ancient chimney of thy nursery！
The lady with the gay macaw；
The dancing girl； the grave bashaw
With bearded lip and chin；
And； leaning idly o'er his gate；
Beneath the imperial fan of state；
The Chinese mandarin。
With what a look of proud command
Thou shakest in thy little hand
The coral rattle with its silver bells；
Making a merry tune！
Thousands of years in Indian seas
That coral grew； by slow degrees；
Until some deadly and wild monsoon
Dashed it on Coromandel's sand！
Those silver bells
Reposed of yore；
As shapeless ore；
Far down in the deep…sunken wells
Of darksome mines；
In some obscure and sunless place；
Beneath huge Chimborazo's base；
Or Potosi's o'erhanging pines
And thus for thee； O little child；
Through many a danger and escape；
The tall ships passed the stormy cape；
For thee in foreign lands remote；
Beneath a burning； tropic clime；
The Indian peasant； chasing the wild goat；
Himself as swift and wild；
In falling； clutched the frail arbute；
The fibres of whose shallow root；
Uplifted from the soil； betrayed
The silver veins beneath it laid；
The buried treasures of the miser； Time。
But； lo！ thy door is left ajar！
Thou hearest footsteps from afar！
And； at the sound；
Thou turnest round
With quick and questioning eyes；
Like one； who； in a foreign land；
Beholds on every han