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Les Miserables [trailer 2]

Cast: Hugh Jackman, Russell Crowe, Anne Hathaway, Sacha Baron Cohen, Amanda Seyfried, Helena Bonham Carter, Eddie Redmayne, Samantha Barks, Aaron Tveit, Colm Wilkinson, Daniel Huttlestone, Isabelle Allen

trailer for Les Miserables, directed by Tom Hooper (2012)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Allegany Camp

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[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Les Miserables

Cast: Hugh Jackman, Russell Crowe, Anne Hathaway, Sacha Baron Cohen, Amanda Seyfried, Helena Bonham Carter, Eddie Redmayne, Samantha Barks, Aaron Tveit, Colm Wilkinson, Daniel Huttlestone, Isabelle Allen

trailer for Les Miserables, directed by Tom Hooper (2012)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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John Daniel

(Dolly Parton)
John Daniel came to town one summer afternoon
Wearin' dirty work clothes so everyone presumed
He was just another logger from the loggin' camp nearby
And he was, but there was somethin' different in John Daniel's eyes
John Daniel was a young man, not more than twenty-four
And there was an air about him that one could not ignore
And in spite of callused hands & dirty clothes, his face was kind
And I wanted so to know what was in John Daniel's mind
John Daniel, tell me where did you come from; tell me where is it you've been
John Daniel, tell me why are you different from all of these other men
John Daniel, there's somethin' about you that I don't quite understand
John Daniel, do you hold the answer to a higher plan?
I rented him a room; he went upstairs like all the rest
It was Saturday and he'd be goin' in to town, I guessed
But he left in a robe and sandals, with a Bible in his hand;
And I thought to myself, John Daniel, I don't understand
Now I'd planned to meet some friends of mine when I got off at three,
In the park we often gather to talk of love and peace
When I got there I found that a crowd had gathered 'round;
And there I saw John Daniel a sittin' on the ground
John Daniel, tell me where did you come from; tell me where is it you've been
John Daniel, tell me why are you different from all of these other men
John Daniel, there's somethin' about you that I don't quite understand
John Daniel, do you hold the answer to a higher plan?
So, "You want to be free," he said, "Well, this is how you can."
As he read from the Bible he held in his hand
We were searchin' for the truth not knowin' where to look,
Not knowin' that the answers all were in John Daniel's book
John Daniel told us all how we could be free
John Daniel taught us all a better way for you and me
He came to us in our own way so we'd be sure to see
He had the light and essence of the man from Galilee
John Daniel, tell me where did you come from; tell me where is it you've been
John Daniel, tell me why are you different from all of these other men
John Daniel, there's something about you that I don't quite understand
John Daniel, do you hold the answer to a higher plan?
John Daniel, John Daniel, John Daniel
John Daniel do you hold the answer to a higher plan?
John Daniel came to town one summer afternoon
Wearin' dirty work clothes so everyone presumed
He was just another logger from the loggin' camp nearby
And he was, but there was somethin' different in John Daniel's eyes
Ooh, John Daniel, tell me where did you come from
Tell me where is it you've been
John Daniel, tell me why are you different from all of these other men
John Daniel, there's something about you that I don't quite understand
John Daniel, do you hold the answer to a higher plan?

song performed by Dolly Parton
Added by Lucian Velea
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Samantha

One night in a cold sweat
I heard the call
So without fear and free from fright
I walked tall
As I crept the passages
Only just but faint
In and out of the central heating
It came and then went
Samantha, samantha dear
I have to be gone
Samantha, oh samantha dear
But ooh, she slept on
Well Ive itched a thousand itches
But this one tops them all
While crouched down with an ear to the ground
I saw the call
Springing up in disbelief
The supension spilt
And peering in a bathroom mirror
Hung the men with guilt
Samantha, samantha dear
I have to be gone
Samantha, oh samantha dear
But ooh, she slept on
One night in a cold sweat
I heard the call
So without fear and free from fright
I walked tall
Samantha, samantha dear
I have to be gone
Samantha, oh samantha dear
But
Samantha, samantha dear
I have to be gone
Samantha, oh samantha dear
But
There were all sorts of funny faces
Being pulled
But mine was the funniest face
Samantha, samantha dear
I have to be gone
Samantha, oh samantha dear
But ooh, she slept on

song performed by Madness
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tale II

THE PARTING HOUR.

Minutely trace man's life; year after year,
Through all his days let all his deeds appear,
And then though some may in that life be strange,
Yet there appears no vast nor sudden change:
The links that bind those various deeds are seen,
And no mysterious void is left between.
But let these binding links be all destroyed,
All that through years he suffer'd or enjoy'd,
Let that vast gap be made, and then behold -
This was the youth, and he is thus when old;
Then we at once the work of time survey,
And in an instant see a life's decay;
Pain mix'd with pity in our bosoms rise,
And sorrow takes new sadness from surprise.
Beneath yon tree, observe an ancient pair -
A sleeping man; a woman in her chair,
Watching his looks with kind and pensive air;
Nor wife, nor sister she, nor is the name
Nor kindred of this friendly pair the same;
Yet so allied are they, that few can feel
Her constant, warm, unwearied, anxious zeal;
Their years and woes, although they long have

loved,
Keep their good name and conduct unreproved:
Thus life's small comforts they together share,
And while life lingers for the grave prepare.
No other subjects on their spirits press,
Nor gain such int'rest as the past distress:
Grievous events, that from the mem'ry drive
Life's common cares, and those alone survive,
Mix with each thought, in every action share,
Darken each dream, and blend with every prayer.
To David Booth, his fourth and last-born boy,
Allen his name, was more than common joy;
And as the child grew up, there seem'd in him
A more than common life in every limb;
A strong and handsome stripling he became,
And the gay spirit answer'd to the frame;
A lighter, happier lad was never seen,
For ever easy, cheerful, or serene;
His early love he fix'd upon a fair
And gentle maid--they were a handsome pair.
They at an infant-school together play'd,
Where the foundation of their love was laid:
The boyish champion would his choice attend
In every sport, in every fray defend.
As prospects open'd, and as life advanced,

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Golfre, Gothic Swiss Tale

I.

Where freezing wastes of dazzl'ing Snow
O'er LEMAN'S Lake rose, tow'ring;
The BARON GOLFRE'S Castle strong
Was seen, the silv'ry peaks among,
With ramparts, darkly low'ring!--

Tall Battlements of flint, uprose,
Long shadowing down the valley,
A grove of sombre Pine, antique,
Amid the white expanse would break,
In many a gloomy alley.

A strong portcullis entrance show'd,
With ivy brown hung over;
And stagnate the green moat was found,
Whene'er the Trav'ller wander'd round,
Or moon-enamour'd Lover.

Within the spacious Courts were seen
A thousand gothic fancies;
Of banners, trophies, armour bright,
Of shields, thick batter'd in the fight,
And interwoven lances.

The BARON GOLFRE long had been
To solitude devoted;
And oft, in pray'r would pass the night
'Till day's vermillion stream of light
Along the blue hill floated.

And yet, his pray'r was little mark'd
With pure and calm devotion;
For oft, upon the pavement bare,
He'd dash his limbs and rend his hair
With terrible emotion!

And sometimes he, at midnight hour
Would howl, like wolves, wide-prowling;
And pale, the lamps would glimmer round--
And deep, the self-mov'd bell would sound
A knell prophetic, tolling!

For, in the Hall, three lamps were seen,
That quiver'd dim;--and near them
A bell rope hung, that from the Tow'r
Three knells would toll, at midnight's hour,
Startl'ing the soul to hear them!

[...] Read more

poem by Mary Darby Robinson
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Bible Stories: Daniel, Bel and the Dragon

When King Astyages died,
Cyrus of Persia became king;
Daniel was his honored companion.

The Babylonians’ idol was Bel;
Each day, they offered twelve bushels of flour,
Forty sheep and fifty gallons of wine;
The king too worshipped Bel;
But Daniel worshipped his own God!

When the King asked Daniel,
‘Why don’t you worship Bel? ’
Daniel answered he didn’t revere
Any man-made idols,
But worshipped the One, living God,
Who’d created heaven and the earth.

The king asked him, “Isn’t Bel’s a living God?
He eats and drinks each day”
But Daniel told him not to be deceived;
The idol was just inner clay,
And outer brass that never ate nor drank.

The angered King ushered the priests,
And ordered them to prove
That Bel ate /drank each day;
If so, Daniel would die for blasphemy;
If not, all of them would be killed;
The priests agreed to prove the same;
There were seventy priests, their wives and children.

The king entered the temple;
The priests asked him to place the food
And wine himself, and shut the door,
And seal it by his signet ring;
The priests didn’t care as below the statue,
They had a secret route through which they went
In and out, devouring the offerings.

When the food had been placed,
Then Daniel sifted ashes all
O’er the temple-floor;
With the help of servants,
in the king’s presence and left;
The door was sealed by the king’s ring.

At night, the priests and others secretly
went in and ate everything;
Next day, the king with Daniel came
And opened the sealed temple door,

[...] Read more

poem by John Celes
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The Canterbury Tales; The Maunciples Tale

PROLOGUE TO THE MAUNCIPLES TALE

Heere folweth the Prologe of the Maunciples tale.

Woot ye nat where ther stant a litel toun,
Which that ycleped is Bobbe-up-and-doun
Under the Blee, in Caunterbury weye?
Ther gan oure Hooste for to jape and pleye,
And seyde, 'Sires, what, Dun is in the Myre!

Is ther no man for preyere ne for hyre,
That wole awake oure felawe al bihynde?
A theef myghte hym ful lightly robbe and bynde.
See how he nappeth, see how for Cokkes bones,
That he wol falle fro his hors atones.

Is that a Cook of London, with meschaunce?
Do hym com forth, he knoweth his penaunce,
For he shal telle a tale, by my fey,
Although it be nat worth a botel hey.
Awake, thou Cook,' quod he, 'God yeve thee sorwe,

What eyleth thee, to slepe by the morwe?
Hastow had fleen al nyght, or artow dronke?
Or hastow with som quene al nyght yswonke
So that thow mayst nat holden up thyn heed?'
This Cook that was ful pale, and no thyng reed,

Seyde to oure Hoost, 'So God my soule blesse,
As ther is falle on me swich hevynesse,
Noot I nat why, that me were levere slepe
Than the beste galon wyn in Chepe.'
'Wel,' quod the Maunciple, 'if it may doon ese

To thee, Sire Cook, and to no wight displese
Which that heere rideth in this compaignye,
And that oure Hoost wole of his curteisye,
I wol as now excuse thee of thy tale,
For, in good feith, thy visage is ful pale.

Thyne eyen daswen eek, as that me thynketh,
And wel I woot, thy breeth ful soure stynketh.
That sheweth wel thou art nat wel disposed,
Of me, certeyn, thou shalt nat been yglosed.
See how he ganeth, lo, this dronken wight!

As though he wolde swolwe us anonright.
Hoold cloos thy mouth, man, by thy fader kyn,
The devel of helle sette his foot therin.
Thy cursed breeth infecte wole us alle,

[...] Read more

poem by Geoffrey Chaucer
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Rokeby: Canto III.

I.
The hunting tribes of air and earth
Respect the brethren of their birth;
Nature, who loves the claim of kind,
Less cruel chase to each assign'd.
The falcon, poised on soaring wing,
Watches the wild-duck by the spring;
The slow-hound wakes the fox's lair;
The greyhound presses on the hare;
The eagle pounces on the lamb;
The wolf devours the fleecy dam:
Even tiger fell, and sullen bear,
Their likeness and their lineage spare,
Man, only, mars kind Nature's plan,
And turns the fierce pursuit on man;
Plying war's desultory trade,
Incursion, flight, and ambuscade,
Since Nimrod, Cush's mighty son,
At first the bloody game begun.

II.
The Indian, prowling for his prey,
Who hears the settlers track his way,
And knows in distant forest far
Camp his red brethren of the war;
He, when each double and disguise
To baffle the pursuit he tries,
Low crouching now his head to hide,
Where swampy streams through rushes glide
Now covering with the wither'd leaves
The foot-prints that the dew receives;
He, skill'd in every sylvan guile,
Knows not, nor tries, such various wile,
As Risingham, when on the wind
Arose the loud pursuit behind.
In Redesdale his youth had heard
Each art her wily dalesmen dared,
When Rooken-edge, and Redswair high,
To bugle rung and bloodhound's cry,
Announcing Jedwood-axe and spear,
And Lid'sdale riders in the rear;
And well his venturous life had proved
The lessons that his childhood loved.

III.
Oft had he shown, in climes afar
Each attribute of roving war;
The sharpen'd ear, the piercing eye,
The quick resolve in danger nigh;
The speed, that in the flight or chase,

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Carrie Ann

The Hollies
Carrie Anne
(Alan Clarke, Tony Hicks & Graham Nash)
Single release 1967
Doo-doo-roo-roo-doot-doot-doo-roo-roo
doo-d-doo-roo-doot-doot-doo-roo-roo
doo-
hey Carrie Anne
hey Carrie Anne
{Allan Clarke vocal:}
When we were at school our games were simple
I played the janitor you played a monitor.
Then you played with older boys and prefects.
What's the attraction in what they're doing?
{All 3 vocal:}
Hey Carrie Anne, what's your game now
can anybody play?
Hey Carrie Anne, what's your game now
can anybody play?
{Tony Hicks vocal:}
You're always something special to me.
Quite independent, never caring.
You lost your charm as you were aging
Where is your magic dissappearing?
{All 3 vocal:}
Hey Carrie Anne, what's your game now
can anybody play?
Hey Carrie Anne, what's your game now
can anybody play?
{Allan Clarke lead vocal:}
You're so, so like a woman to me
(so like a woman to me)
So (so) so like (so) a woman to me
So like a woman to me.
{interlude}
Hey Carrie Anne, what's your game now
can anybody play?
Hey Carrie Anne, what's your game now
can anybody play?
{Graham Nash vocal:}
People live and learn but you're still learning
you use my mind and I'll be your teacher.
When the lesson's over you'll be with me
Then I'll hear the other people saying:
{All 3 vocal:}
Hey Carrie Anne, what's your game now
can anybody play?
Hey Carrie Anne, what's your game now
can anybody play?
Carrie Anne (Carrie Anne, Carrie Anne)

song performed by Hollies
Added by Lucian Velea
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New

We knew.
Anne to come.
Anne to come.
Be new.
Be new too.
Anne to come
Anne to come
Be new
Be new too.
And anew.
Anne to come.
Anne anew.
Anne do come.
Anne do come too, to come and to come not to come and as to
and new, and new too.
Anne do come.
Anne knew.
Anne to come.
Anne anew.
Anne to come.
And as new.
Anne to come to come too.
Half of it.
Was she
Windows
Was she
Or mine
Was she
Or as she
For she or she or sure.
Enable her to say.
And enable her to say.
Or half way.
Sitting down.
Half sitting down.
And another way.
Their ships
And please.
As the other side.
And another side
Incoming
Favorable and be fought.
Adds to it.
In half.
Take the place of take the place of take the place of taking
place.
Take the place of in places.
Take the place of taken in place of places.
Take the place of it, she takes it in the place of it. In the way
of arches architecture.

[...] Read more

poem by Gertrude Stein
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The Case Of Conscience

THOSE who in fables deal, bestow at ease
Both names and titles, freely as they please.
It costs them scarcely any thing, we find.
And each is nymph or shepherdess designed;
Some e'en are goddesses, that move below,
From whom celestial bliss of course must flow.

THIS Horace followed, with superior art:--
If, to the trav'ller's bed, with throbbing heart,
The chambermaid approached, 'twas Ilia found,
Or fair Egeria, or some nymph renowned.

GOD, in his goodness, made, one lovely day,
Apollo, who directs the lyrick lay,
And gave him pow'rs to call and name at will,
Like father Adam, with primordial skill.
Said he, go, names bestow that please the ear;
In ev'ry word let sweetest sound appear.
This ancient law then proves, by right divine,
WE oft are sponsors to the royal line.

WHEN pleasing tales and fables I endite,
I, who in humble verse presume to write,
May surely use this privilege of old,
And, to my fancy, appellations mould.
If I, instead of Anne, should Sylvia say,
And Master Thomas (when the case I weigh)
Should change to Adamas, the druid sage,
Must I a fine or punishment engage?
No, surely not:--at present I shall choose
Anne and the Parson for my tale to use.

WITHIN her village, Anne was thought the belle,
And ev'ry other charmer to excel.
As near a river once she chanced to stray,
She saw a youth in Nature's pure array,
Who bathed at ease within the gliding stream;
The girl was brisk, and worthy of esteem,
Her eyes were pleased; the object gave delight;
Not one defect could be produced in sight;
Already, by the shepherdess adored,
If with the belle to pleasing flights he'd soared,
The god of love had all they wished concealed
None better know what should not be revealed.
Anne nothing feared: the willows were her shade,
Which, like Venetian blinds, a cov'ring made;
Her eyes, howe'er, across had easy view,
And, o'er the youth, each beauty could pursue.

SHE back four paces drew, at first, through shame;

[...] Read more

poem by La Fontaine
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My Babys In Love With Eddie Vedder

Oh, my baby, my baby she dont want me no more
Ever since she saw his poster in that record store
She says the way he grinds his molars is really sexy
She thinks hes so darn dysfunctional and generation xy
She likes his brooding angst and his wild-eyed stare
Yeah, hes her very favorite slacker multi-millionaire
Well, my babys in love with eddie vedder
Shes all crazy bout that eddie vedder
Once she was mine, but now I better just forget her
cause my babys in love with eddie vedder
Now, every time I see him, well, he looks so grim
I guess it really must suck to be a rock star like him
What a pain in the butt to have so much success
Spending all his time moping and avoiding the press
But my girl cant get enough of his sullen demeanor
Like hes some big tortured genious and Im some kinda wiener
Well, my babys in love with eddie vedder
Shes got a thing for that eddie vedder
Tell me, what can he do that I cant do better
Now my babys in love with
I said I said I said my babys in love with eddie vedder
Head over heels for that eddie vedder
I cant believe it, now shes knitting him a sweater
cause my babys in love with eddie vedder
I knew we were headin for disaster
When she caught me hangin out at the ticketmaster
Now shes got an unrequited adoratioon
For the frustrated, agitated, designated alienated
Spokesman for the disaffected grunge generation
Well, I dont wear doc martens and I dont wear flannel
And I dont boycott the music video channel
And I just cant compete with all that money and fame
But I know two can play at this game
Yeah, well, lets just see how jealous shess get
When I start stalking alanis morissette
Well, mny babys in love with eddie vedder
Shes all crazy bout that eddie vedder
Once she was mine but now I better just forget her
cause my babys in love with
I said I said I said my babys in love with eddie vedder
Whyd she have to fall for that eddie vedder
If she wants to leave me, I guess I better let her
cause my babys in love with eddie vedder

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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Daniel

Daniel is traveling tonight on a plane
I can see the red tail lights heading for spain
Oh and, I can see daniel waving goodbye
God it loks like daniel
Must be the clouds in my eyes
They say spains pretty
Though Ive never been
And daniel says its the best place that hes ever seen
Oh and, he should know cause hes been there enough
Lord I miss daniel
Oh I miss him so much
Oh, daniel my brother
You are older then me
Do you still feel the pain
Of the scars that wont heal
Your eyes have died
But you see more than i
Daniel youre a star
In the face of the sky
I miss daniel
Oh I miss him so much
Oh, daniel my brother
You are older then me
Do you still feel the pain
Of the scars that wont heal
Your eyes have died
But you see more than i
Daniel youre a star
In the face of the sky
Daniel is traveling tonight on a plane
I can see the red tail lights heading for spain
Oh and, I can see daniel waving goodbye
God it loks like daniel
Must be the clouds in my eyes
Oh god,
It looks like daniel
Must be the clouds in my eyes

song performed by Wilson Phillips
Added by Lucian Velea
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Daniel

Daniel is travelling tonight on a plane
I can see the red tail lights heading for Spain
Oh and I can see Daniel waving goodbye
God it looks like Daniel, must be the clouds in my eyes
They say Spain is pretty though I've never been
Well Daniel says it's the best place that he's ever seen
Oh and he should know, he's been there enough
Lord I miss Daniel, oh I miss him so much, no
Daniel my brother you are older than me
Do you still feel the pain of the scars that won't heal
Your eyes have lied but you see more than I
Daniel you're a star in the face of the sky
Daniel my brother you are older than me
Do you still feel the pain of the scars that won't heal
Your eyes have lied but you see more than I
Daniel you're a star in the face of the sky..
Daniel is travelling tonight on a plane
I can see the red tail lights heading for Spain
Oh and I can see Daniel waving goodbye
God it looks like Daniel, must be the clouds in my eyes
Oh God it looks like Daniel, must be the clouds in my eyes...

song performed by Fuel
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Legend of Lady Gertrude

I.
Fallen the lofty halls, where vassal crowds
Drank in the dawn of Gertrude's natal day.
The dungeon roof an Alpine snow-wreath shrouds,
The strong, wild eagle's eyrie in the clouds—
The robber-baron's nest—is swept away.

II.
Bare is the mountain brow of lordly towers;
Only the sunbeams stay, the moon and stars,
The faithful saxifrage and gentian flowers,
The silvery mist, and soft, white, crystal showers,
And torrents rushing through their rocky bars.

III.
More than three hundred years ago, the flag
Charged with that dread device, an Alpine bear—
By many storm-winds rent—a grim, grey rag—
Floated above the castle on the crag,
Above the last whose heads were shelter'd there.

IV.
He was the proudest of an ancient race,
The fiercest of the robber chieftain's band,
That haughty Freiherr, with the iron face:
And she—his lady-sister, by God's grace—
The sweetest, gentlest maiden in the land.

V.
'Twas a rude nest for such a tender bird,
That lonely fortress, with its warrior-lord.
Aye drunken revels the night-stillness stirred;
From morn till eve the battle-cries were heard,
The sound of jingling spur and clanking sword.

VI.
And Lady Gertrude was both young and fair,

A mark for lawless hearts and roving eyes,—
With sweet, grave face, and amber-tinted hair,
And a low voice soft-thrilling through the air,
Filling it full of subtlest melodies.

VII.
But the great baron, proudest of his line,
Fetter'd, with jealous care, his white dove's wing;
Guarded his treasure in an inner shrine,
Till such a day as knightly hands should twine
Her slender fingers with the marriage-ring.

[...] Read more

poem by Ada Cambridge
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The Eve of St. John

The baron of Smaylho'me rose with day,
He spurr'd his courser on,
Without stop or stay, down the rocky way,
That leads to Brotherstone.

He went not with the bold Buccleuch,
His banner broad to rear;
He went not 'gainst the English yew,
To lift the Scottish spear.

Yet his plate-jack was braced, and his helmet was laced,
And his vaunt-brace of proof he wore;
At his saddle-gerthe was a good steel sperthe,
Full ten pound weight and more.

The Baron return'd in three days' space,
And his looks were sad and sour;
And weary was his courser's pace,
As he reach'd his rocky tower.

He came not from where Ancram Moor
Ran red with English blood;
Where the Douglas true, and the bold Buccleuch,
'Gainst keen Lord Evers stood.

Yet was his helmet hack'd and hew'd,
His acton pierced and tore,
His axe and his dagger with blood inbrued,-
But it was not English gore.

He lighted at the Chapellage,
He held him close and still;
And he whistled thrice for his little foot-page,
His name was English Will.

'Come thou hither, my little foot-page,
Come hither to my knee;
Though thou art young, and tender of age,
I think thou art true to me.

'Come, tell me all that thou hast seen,
And look thou tell me true!
Since I from Smaylho'me tower have been,
What did thy lady do?'-

'My lady, each night, sought the lonely light,
That burns on the wild Watchfold;
For, from height to height, the beacons bright
Of the English foemen told.

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Alice Through the Looking Glass

Cast: Johnny Depp, Mia Wasikowska, Helena Bonham Carter, Anne Hathaway, Andrew Scott, Sacha Baron Cohen, Alan Rickman, Michael Sheen, Rhys Ifans, Ed Speleers, Timothy Spall, Stephen Fry, Toby Jones, Matt Lucas, Frances de la Tour

trailer for Alice Through the Looking Glass, directed by James Bobin, screenplay by Linda Woolverton (2016)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Student's Second Tale; The Baron of St. Castine

Baron Castine of St. Castine
Has left his château in the Pyrenees,
And sailed across the western seas.
When he went away from his fair demesne
The birds were building, the woods were green;
And now the winds of winter blow
Round the turrets of the old château,
The birds are silent and unseen,
The leaves lie dead in the ravine,
And the Pyrenees are white with snow.

His father, lonely, old, and gray,
Sits by the fireside day by day,
Thinking ever one thought of care;
Through the southern windows, narrow and tall,
The sun shines into the ancient hall,
And makes a glory round his hair.
The house-dog, stretched beneath his chair,
Groans in his sleep as if in pain,
Then wakes, and yawns, and sleeps again,
So silent is it everywhere,--
So silent you can hear the mouse
Run and rummage along the beams
Behind the wainscot of the wall;
And the old man rouses from his dreams,
And wanders restless through the house,
As if he heard strange voices call.

His footsteps echo along the floor
Of a distant passage, and pause awhile;
He is standing by an open door
Looking long, with a sad, sweet smile,
Into the room of his absent son.
There is the bed on which he lay,
There are the pictures bright and gay,
Horses and hounds and sun-lit seas;
There are his powder-flask and gun,
And his hunting-knives in shape of a fan;
The chair by the window where he sat,
With the clouded tiger-skin for a mat,
Looking out on the Pyrenees,
Looking out on Mount Marboré
And the Seven Valleys of Lavedan.
Ah me! he turns away and sighs;
There is a mist before his eyes.

At night whatever the weather be,
Wind or rain or starry heaven,
Just as the clock is striking seven,
Those who look from the windows see

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Christabel

PART I

'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock
And the owls have awakened the crowing cock;
Tu-whit!- Tu-whoo!
And hark, again! the crowing cock,
How drowsily it crew.
Sir Leoline, the Baron rich,
Hath a toothless mastiff, which
From her kennel beneath the rock
Maketh answer to the clock,
Four for the quarters, and twelve for the hour;
Ever and aye, by shine and shower,
Sixteen short howls, not over loud;
Some say, she sees my lady's shroud.

Is the night chilly and dark?
The night is chilly, but not dark.
The thin gray cloud is spread on high,
It covers but not hides the sky.
The moon is behind, and at the full;
And yet she looks both small and dull.
The night is chill, the cloud is gray:
'T is a month before the month of May,
And the Spring comes slowly up this way.
The lovely lady, Christabel,
Whom her father loves so well,
What makes her in the wood so late,
A furlong from the castle gate?
She had dreams all yesternight
Of her own betrothed knight;
And she in the midnight wood will pray
For the weal of her lover that's far away.

She stole along, she nothing spoke,
The sighs she heaved were soft and low,
And naught was green upon the oak,
But moss and rarest mistletoe:
She kneels beneath the huge oak tree,
And in silence prayeth she.

The lady sprang up suddenly,
The lovely lady, Christabel!
It moaned as near, as near can be,
But what it is she cannot tell.-
On the other side it seems to be,
Of the huge, broad-breasted, old oak tree.
The night is chill; the forest bare;
Is it the wind that moaneth bleak?
There is not wind enough in the air

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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