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Read Ebook: Villa Eden: The Country-House on the Rhine by Auerbach Berthold Shackford Charles C Charles Chauncy Translator
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Ebook has 10651 lines and 461811 words, and 214 pages
PAGE
BEYOND THE HILLS OF DREAM 1
MORNING 5
OUT OF POMPEII 6
MORNING ON THE SHORE 8
BEREAVEMENT OF THE FIELDS 9
A WOOD LYRIC 13
AN AUGUST REVERIE 15
IN THE SPRING FIELDS 19
THE DRYAD 20
PENIEL 23
AFTERGLOW 30
THE TREE OF TRUTH 31
GLORY OF THE DYING DAY 36
SEPTEMBER IN THE LAURENTIAN HILLS 38
LAZARUS 39
THE MOTHER 43
DUSK 48
THE LAST PRAYER 49
PAN THE FALLEN 52
THE VENGEANCE OF SAKI 55
LOVE 66
VICTORIA 67
ENGLAND 74
SEBASTIAN CABOT 78
THE WORLD-MOTHER 86
THE LAZARUS OF EMPIRE 92
IN HOLYROOD 94
UNABSOLVED 95
HER LOOK 107
THE WAYFARER 109
TO THE OTTAWA 116
DEPARTURE 117
PHAETHON 120
THE HUMMING BEE 129
THE CHILDREN OF THE FOAM 132
HOW ONE WINTER CAME 136
Beyond the Hills of Dream
Over the mountains of sleep, my Love, Over the hills of dream, Beyond the walls of care and fate, Where the loves and memories teem; We come to a world of fancy free, Where hearts forget to weep;-- Over the mountains of dream, my Love, Over the hills of sleep.
Over the hills of care, my Love, Over the mountains of dread, We come to a valley glad and vast, Where we meet the long-lost dead: And there the gods in splendor dwell, In a land where all is fair, Over the mountains of dread, my Love, Over the hills of care.
Over the mountains of dream, my Love, Over the hills of sleep;-- Could we but come to that heart's desire, Where the harvests of fancy reap, Then we would know the old joys and hopes, The longings of youth's bright gleam, Over the mountains of sleep, my Love, Over the hills of dream.
Yea, there the sweet old years have rest, And there my heart would be, Amid the glad ones loved of yore, At the sign of the Fancy Free; And there the old lips would repeat Earth's memories o'er and o'er, Over the mountains of might-have-been, Over the hills of yore.
Unto that valley of dreams, my Love, If we could only go, Beyond the mountains of heart's despair, The hills of winter and snow, Then we would come to those happy isles, Those shores of blossom and wing, Over the mountains of waiting, my Love, Over the hills of spring.
And there where the woods are scarlet and gold, And the apples are red on the tree, The heart of Autumn is never old In that country where we would be. And how would we come to that land, my Love? Follow the midnight stars, That swim and gleam in a milk-white stream, Over the night's white bars.
Or follow the trail of the sunset red That beacons the dying deeps Of day's wild borders down the edge Of silence, where evening sleeps; Or take the road that the morning wakes, When he whitens his first rosebeam, Over the mountains of glory, my Love, Over the hills of dream.
Sometime, sometime, we will go, my Love, When winter loosens to spring, And all the spirits of Joy are ajog, After the wild-bird's wing,-- When winter and sorrow have opened their doors To set love's prisoners free, Over the mountains of woe, my Love, Over the hills of dree.
And when we reach there we will know The faces we knew of yore, The lips that kissed, the hands that clasped, When memory loosens her store, And we will drink to the long dead years, In that inn of the golden gleam, Over the mountains of sleep, my Love, Over the hills of dream.
And all the joys we missed, my Love, And all the hopes we knew, The dreams of life we dreamed in vain, When youth's red blossoms blew; And all the hearts that throbbed for us, In the past so sunny and fair, We will meet and greet in that golden land, Over the hills of care.
Over the mountains of sleep, my Love, Over the hills of dream, Beyond the walls of care and fate, Where the loves and memories teem, We come to a land of fancy free, Where hearts forget to weep, Over the mountains of dream, my Love, Over the hills of sleep.
Morning
When I behold how out of ruined night Filled with all weirds of haunted ancientness, And dreams and phantasies of pale distress, Is builded, beam by beam, the splendid light, The opalescent glory, gem bedight, Of dew-emblazoned morning; when I know Such wondrous hopes, such luminous beauties grow From out earth's shades of sadness and affright;
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