“And in despair I bowed my head;"There is no peace on earth," I said;"For hate is strong,And mocks the songOf peace on earth, good-will to men!"Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep!The Wrong shall fail,the Right prevail,With peace on earth, good-will to men!”

“I heard the bells on Christmas DayTheir old, familiar carols play,And wild and sweetThe words repeatOf peace on earth, good-will to men!”

“The Arrow and the SongI shot an arrow into the air,It fell to earth, I knew not where;For, so swiftly it flew, the sightCould not follow it in its flight.I breathed a song into the air,It fell to earth, I knew not where;For who has sight so keen and strong,That it can follow the flight of song?Long, long afterward, in an oakI found the arrow, still unbroke;And the song, from beginning to end,I found again in the heart of a friend.”

“If you would hit the mark, you must aim a little above it;Every arrow that flies feels the attraction of earth.”

“Anon from the castle wallsThe crescent banner falls,And the crowd beholds instead,Like a portent in the sky,Iskander's banner fly,The Black Eagle with double head;And a shout ascends on high,For men's souls are tired of the Turks,And their wicked ways and works,That have made of Ak-HissarA city of the plague;And the loud, exultant cryThat echoes wide and farIs: "Long live Scanderbeg!”

“EndymionThe rising moon has hid the stars;Her level rays, like golden bars,Lie on the landscape green,With shadows brown between.And silver white the river gleams,As if Diana, in her dreams,Had dropt her silver bowUpon the meadows low.On such a tranquil night as this,She woke Endymion with a kiss,When, sleeping in the grove,He dreamed not of her love.Like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought,Love gives itself, but is not bought;Nor voice, nor sound betraysIts deep, impassioned gaze.It comes,--the beautiful, the free,The crown of all humanity,--In silence and aloneTo seek the elected one.It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deepAre Life's oblivion, the soul's sleep,And kisses the closed eyesOf him, who slumbering lies.O weary hearts! O slumbering eyes!O drooping souls, whose destiniesAre fraught with fear and pain,Ye shall be loved again!No one is so accursed by fate,No one so utterly desolate,But some heart, though unknown,Responds unto his own.Responds,--as if with unseen wings,An angel touched its quivering strings;And whispers, in its song,"Where hast thou stayed so long?”

“In the long run men hit only what they aim at.”