The Nile, Forever New And Old, Among

I Shot An Arrow Into The Air, It Fell To Earth, I Knew Not Where.

Out Of The Bosom Of The Air, Out Of The Cloud-folds Of Her Garments Shaken, Over The Woodlands Brown And Bare, Over The Harvest-fields Forsaken, Silent, And Soft, And Slow Descends The Snow.

Sweet April! Many A Thought Is Wedded Unto Thee, As Hearts Are Wed; Nor Shall They Fail, Till, To Its Autumn Brought, Life's Golden Fruit Is Shed.

The Morning Breaks; The Steeds In Their Stalls Stamp And Neigh, As The Hostler Calls; The Day Returns, But Nevermore Returns The Traveler To The Shore, And The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls.

Such Was The Wreck Of The Hesperus, In The Midnight And The Snow! Christ Save Us All From A Death Like This, On The Reef Of Norman's Woe!