"glen" poems
Sabi nila,kapag nahanap mo na daw ang tunay na pag-ibig ay nahanap mo na rin ang iyong langit dito sa lupa. Kaya't naniniwala akong langit din ang maghahatid sa'yo patungo sa akin. Pero naiinip na akong maghintay at nanghihinayang sa bawat sandaling lumilipas , na hindi ko man lang magawang hawakan ang iyong mga kamay sa mga panahong kailangan mo ng karamay.Na hindi ko man lang magawang damayan ka kung dumadanas ka ng lumbay.Alam kong katulad ko,pakiramdam mo minsan ay binitawan ka na din ng mundo.Kaya't patawarin mo ako kung sa mga pagkakataong nararanasan mo yan ay wala ako d'yan para ikaw ay aking ma-salo. Kung totoong ang pag-ibig at ang langit ay may malalim na kaugnayan sa isa’t-isa,malakas ang kutob ko na tayo din ay iginuhit na katulad nila. Minsan na din akong nagtanong,saang sulok ng langit ka kaya naroroon? Malapit ka kaya sa araw? O marahil nasa tabi ka lang ng buwan,na sa tuwing sasapit ang dilim ako ay binabantayan.Kaya pala kahit saan ako magpunta ako'y lagi niyang sinusundan. Pero maaari din na ika'y kapiling ng mga bituin na kay daming nais mag angkin. Kay palad kong pagdating ng araw ikaw ay napa sa-akin. Kaya habang wala ka pa,ako muna ay magiging kaisa ng mga mabubuting kawal ng ating bayan. Makikidigma kung kinakailangan,ipaglalaban kung ano ang makat'wiran. Upang sa iyong pagdating ay malaya nating tatamasahin ang payapang buhay. Kaya habang wala ka pa ako'y taos puso kung manalangin sa ating may likha. Na paghariin niya nawa ang kabutihan sa aking puso bilang isang tao at higit sa lahat ay bilang kanyang anak , upang sa sandaling tayo'y pagtagpuin ako rin sa iyo ay magiging isang mabuting kabiyak. Hindi pa man tayo nagtatagpo,nais kung malaman mo na laman kang palagi ng aking panalangin. At habambuhay kong itatangi ang iyong pag-ibig na siyang dahilan kung bakit maka ilang ulit kong nanaising mabuhay. Nais kong ipagsigawan sa mundo na iniibig kitang wagas,ngunit mas mamatamisin kong hintayin ka at kapag naglapat na ang ating mga dibdib,ibubulong ko sa'yo na ikaw ang aking daigdig. Maghihintay lang ako,habang wala ka pa.
© 2018 Glen Castillo
All Rights Reserved.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 3:47 PM UTC
Ang iyong mga mata’y lagusan ng liwayway
Sa kulimlim na bagtasin ng aba kong buhay
At ang iyong labi na sintingkad ng rosas
Ay ang tanghali ko sa mga gabing ayaw mag wakas
Ang durado **** buhok ay ang gintuang palay
Sa kaparangan ng puso kong hindi mapalagay
Ang ngiti mo ay binhi ng halaman sa kalangitan
Na sumisibol unti-unti sa mundo kong ‘di na nadidiligan
Sa piling mo sana ang pinapangarap kong daigdig
Ituturing kong alapaap ang mahimlay ka sa aking bisig
Ngunit tulad din ng mga kwentong itinago ng kasaysayan
Maaaring ikaw at ako,
Ay kwentong ako na lang ang makaka-alam
Mapaglarong tadhana ay dito ako inilagay
Sa digmaang hindi ko kayang magtagumpay
Sa tunggaliang ang kalaban ko’y ako
Sa pag-ibig na hindi ko maipag tapat sa'yo
*Palihim kitang sinusuyo
Kaya’t palihim din akong nabibigo
Patago akong lumalaban
Kaya’t patago din akong nasasaktan*
Kung iadya man ng panahon na dito ka maligaw
Sa tulang habang panahon na ang laman ay laging ikaw
Ito pa rin ang mga sandaling ako'y alipin mo
Ito pa rin ang mga sandaling hawak mo ang aking mundo
© 2018 Glen Castillo
All Rights Reserved.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 2:12 PM UTC
Umaga na pala,
Subalit tila umpisa pa lang ito ng dilim
Dito sa bayan kong nasa sinapupunan ng mga sakim
Pagpagan ang mga baro't saya habang hawak ang sedula
Nilang mga uhaw sa tronong ipinangako sa kanila
Naluklok na bagong puno,sa pagdaka’y nagpaulan
Ng mga balang hindi man tingga ay tumatagos sa kaibuturan
Sa dati niyang ka giyera na s'yang mga tunay na anak ng bayan
Iginapos sila’t ipiniit sa sandipang karapatan
Yaong mga bago niyang kawal ay matatayog pa sa kalabaw
‘Pagkat kasama niyang magkakamal ng salaping umaapaw
Mag kaka-ututang labi ay iisa ang kaliskis at balagat
Sila na mag kaibigang dila at ngipin sa pilak din mag-papangagat
Habang ang mga dating sadyang tapat sa gampanin
Ay mistulang mga bayani na lang sa hangin
Ang pagka dalisay nila sa maka-kapwang tungkulin
Parang sa tubig na isulat at hindi na basahin
Kawawang Sta. Teresita bayan kong dinusta
Ng mga ganid sa kapangyarihan at mapang-alipusta
Akong anak mo’y nasa daluyong ng kapanglawan
Kabiyak mo sa balsang itinali sa nagluluksang pampang
Kawawang Sta. Teresita ginahasa ng mga mapag-samantala
Hinubaran ng dangal at piniringan ng telang mapula pa sa pula
Binusalan ang bibig hanggang sigaw mo’y hindi na marinig
Mga araw mo ngayo’y mamumugto sa haharapin **** pag-liligalig
Tahan na Sta. Teresita,Tahan na,
Bayan kong sakdal iniibig
Matatapos din ang sigwa,
Tutulay muli ang lunday sa sapa.
© 2018 Glen Castillo
All Rights Reserved.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 2:01 PM UTC
Diyos
Bayan
Pamilya
Kalikasan
Kapwa
Sining
Sinta
Sarili
© 2018 Glen Castillo
All Rights Reserved.
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 6:21 PM UTC
Balanseng pakikibaka,
Ito ang araw araw na ipinamulat sa akin
Ng pang araw araw ko ding pagtira
Sa mundong hindi naman timbang ang hustisya
Magkabilang panig na inaasahan ng lahat
Na sana'y magpantay ang timbangan
Ngunit ang katotohanan?
Likas nang mas mabigat ang kabila
Kaysa sa nasa kabila.
Lahat daw ay pantay pantay
Sabi ng matandang kasabihan
Ngunit para sa akin?
‘Yan ay isang malaking kalokohan
Wala pa namang naging malinaw na paliwanag
Sa uugod-ugod na paniniwalang iyan
Nakakapagod pantayin ang mga bagay-bagay.
Sa kadahilanang hindi naman pantay pantay ang layunin ng bawat nilalang
Sa lipunang,
Kailanma'y hindi na magiging patas
Sa mundong,
Kailanma'y hindi na bababa ang mga nawili na sa itaas,
Sa daigdig,
Na ang nasa ilalim ay lalo pang nadidiin
Paano pang mag-aabot ang langit at lupa
Kung mananatiling bakante ang gitna
Kung ang biktima ay lalong inaakusahan
At ang may sala ay patuloy na hinahangaan
O lupa kong hirang, o Inang kong Bayan
Tayo ba’y ang mga walang kapaguran panaginip?
Hanggang kailan tayo maaaring maidlip?
Tayo ba’y ang mga hindi natutulog na batis?
Hanggang saan tayo padadaluyin ng mga agos ng hinagpis?
Tayo ba'y ang mga sigaw
Sa kwebang walang alingawngaw?
Hanggang kailan tayo magtitiis
Sa 'di makatarungang ''Mga Bulong ng Hapis''.
© 2018 Glen Castillo
All Rights Reserved.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 5:34 AM UTC
May mga salitang sa papel na lang kayang manatili
Dahil hindi na ito kayang bigkasin pa ng mga labi.
Natapos na ang palabas na ang tauhan ay ikaw at ako
Tayong mga bida noon, sa mundong hindi nila nakikita
Gusto kong isipin na nalaos lang tayo,pero hindi pala
Dahil ang dating tayo,ngayon ay ikaw na lang at ako
Bakit ganito? wala naman akong naaalala na drama
ang sinulat kong kwento
Pero bakit sa malungkot natapos ang lahat?
Minsan ay gusto ko na lang gawing gabi ang bawat umaga
Sa gayon ay hindi nila mapansin na may hinagpis akong dinadala
Sa gayon ay hindi nila makita na lumuluha ang aking mga mata
Pagkat sa dilim, doon ko lahat itinago ang sakit at dusa
Na ni sa panaginip ay hindi ko inasahang dadating pa
Oo kakayanin kong maging gabi ang bawat umaga
Mahirap,
Pero pwede ba?
Sa kahuli-hulihang sandali ay maturuan mo ako sana
Na gawing gabi ang lahat ng umaga
Na kasing dali lang kung paano mo nakayanan
Na maging malungkot ang dating tayo na masaya.
© 2018 Glen Castillo
All Rights Reserved.
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 9:21 AM UTC
Balang araw,
Biglang babagal ang paglakad ng oras
Bahagyang hihinto ang ilog sa kanyang pag lagaslas
Aawit ang mga langay-langayan
At luluha ang kalangitan
Luhang hatid ng matinding galak
Sa wakas ay wala ng iiyak
Dahil natapos na ang panaginip
Salamat at hindi ka nainip
Maraming istorya ang nais kong sabihin
Inipon kong lahat para sa'yong pagdating
Kulang ang magdamag kung aking isasalaysay
Kung paano kita hinintay
Sa sandaling tayo'y magtagpo
Doon lamang magiging perpekto ang mundo
Dahil sa kabila ng mga gasgas nating puso
Ay may paraisong tayo lang ang makakabuo
Sana nga bukas kapiling ko na ikaw
Sana nga bukas na ang ating ''Balang araw''.
© 2018 Glen Castillo
All Rights Reserved.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 3:43 PM UTC
Anim na taon,
Anim na taon ka ng nagpahinga
Dahil sa takot na ‘dinulot ng iyong nakaraan
Pinilit **** bumangon at magpasya
Para manatiling buo kahit wala na s’ya
Ang bawat gabi at umaga
Ang pinili **** makasama
Dahil sila'y hindi magbabago kailanman
Di tulad ng iyong sininta na nagsabing Hanggang dulo'y walang iwanan
Pero ngayon siya ay nasaan?
Anim na taon,
Anim na taon **** pinili na mag-isa
Dahil nakakulong ka pa rin sa kayraming pangamba
Na baka may dumating muli at maging mundo mo sya
Tapos isang araw ay gigising ka na namang nag-iisa
Sapat na ba ang anim ng taon?
Upang palayain ka na sa tanikala ng kahapon
Sapat na ba ‘yon upang lumigaya ka na ngayon?.
Sapat na ba yun upang muli **** hayaan na may isang tao na muling mag may-ari ng iyong daigdig?
Sapat na ba ang anim na taon para muli kang huminga at pumintig?
O puso,araw mo ngayon,
Pasensya ka na sa anim na taon..
© 2018 Glen Castillo
All Rights Reserved.
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 3:51 PM UTC
#
*Kinalaban ko ang tadhana
Kinalaban ko ang luha
Kinalaban ko ang sakit
Kinalaban ko ang galit
Kinalaban ko ang lungkot
Kinalaban ko ang takot
Kinalaban ko ang antok
Kinalaban ko ang pagsubok
Kinalaban ko ang kahapon
Kinalaban ko ang bawat noon
Kinalaban ko ang oras
Kinalaban ko ang bawat panahon
Kinalaban ko ang mundo
Kinalaban kong lahat* PARA SA'YO...
© 2018 Glen Castillo
All Rights Reserved.
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 10:59 AM UTC
Saan ka man nananahan sa kasalukuyan
Nais ko sanang sabihin sa'yo
Na dito sa aking mundo ay lumuluha ang langit
Pahaba ang patak ng ulan
Na parang sinulid
At nangangarap na naman akong
Sana'y mga patak na lang tayo ng ulan
Aagos tayong magkasabay
At magka bigkis ang mga kamay
At nangangarap na naman akong
Sana'y makawala na tayo dito
Sa magkabilang hangganan ng bahaghari
Pinapangarap mo rin kaya ako
D'yan sa iyong mundo?
© 2018 Glen Castillo
All Rights Reserved.
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 6:13 AM UTC
He thought that he had been evicted like a raucous Irishman, late once again on the rent, his belongings and furniture strewn on the lawn
His cold, deadly stare and ruffled red, said the same, with haughty indignation written all over him
As could be expected with any eviction, belongings strewn to the street, it started to rain; large splattering drops falling from the sky with an audible impact, adding insult to the injury
But he was just a child, set free and off to learn on his own, his perch and roost along with his chair, moved to his new home
He had outgrown the large screen porch, which was such a ridiculous place for an Owl anyway
Wood and glen gone, surrounded by girder and screen, locked into the realm of old peoples coffee and cigarettes
Tucked up into the eaves ignominiously, or sitting on the lamp, grooming flesh from his over large and taloned feet
He would sit silhouetted by the dim red glow of the bulb, relaxing, until a noise would spin his head and he would become hooded and glaring death
The lamp added a glow to his eyes, which already burned with a raptors fire and he would become the personification of evil to the world of prey
Low and crouched, wings slightly spread; he would become the terrifying story that small warm animals tell their children at night to keep them in line and safe
But now he has been moved outside and all of his familiar belongings with him, or most anyways
Now he perches outside, either on the rough, twisted branches near his roost, or his favorite chair, and contemplates late into the night
But it seems that he prefers the comfort of his living room and he rests on the arm of the chair, quiet and pensive in the still and humid darkness
He stares at me while I smoke; the white plumes drifting like iridescent fog into the moonlight, while I observe him from his former home, illuminated by the dim lamp light
His saffron eyes gleam in the darkness, his dark form robed in that of the raptor, wings held down, with the tips outstretched like fingers
He stares at the lamp, standing like a pedestal against the wall and I wonder to myself
Does he want his ****** lamp moved out there too?
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 4:44 PM UTC
I abandon the path and mark my visit
deep into natures greens and hidden groves
how the beauty of everything intoxicates me,
and consuming it all leaves me only with no sense:
speechless and bewildered, like a baby.
words seem but a lost cause to me ;
it is almost as if the ferns and its charms
don’t want to be spoken of –
not even a praise.
upon astray land I leave my trail
up the thick pine hill, down the lonesome glen
I sit desperately, in search of only half a word –
it makes no difference at all.
a hint, a hum of frigid air
deep twilight falls upon me like a star
and I fall with it into my own silence.
the hypnotizing haunt of crickets in unseen places
numbs me, almost becomes me
and I become them, like everything becomes
the other thing that lives in its own way.
and just hearing the wise creek babbling,
the traveling breezes’ secret murmur ;
I know I have been unaware all along.
the poem was never mine to write:
I have only to listen.
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 6:31 PM UTC
Thine eyes shall see the light of distant skies:
Yet, COLE! thy heart shall bear to Europe's strand
A living image of thy native land,
Such as on thine own glorious canvas lies;
Lone lakes--savannas where the bison roves--
Rocks rich with summer garlands--solemn streams--
Skies, where the desert eagle wheels and screams--
Spring bloom and autumn blaze of boundless groves.
Fair scenes shall greet thee where thou goest--fair,
But different--everywhere the trace of men,
Paths, homes, graves, ruins, from the lowest glen
To where life shrinks from the fierce Alpine air,
Gaze on them, till the tears shall dim thy sight,
But keep that earlier, wilder image bright.
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The cave opens it's great crumbling maw,
streaks of light fall on the sparse green blades,
which dot the floor,
mushrooms push forth from the ground,
like fingers reaching to air,
the gurgling of a stream,
dances along a riverbed path,
paradise enclosed,
by earthen walls and canopy,
the glen lit by diffused and dappled sun.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 10:13 AM UTC
To Two Nonnas
@2007 Linda Barrett
We can't afford to go to Italy
So you both bring it to us
We hear in the music of your names,
each syllable coming from your mouths,
vocal chords and tongues
that dance fast Italian tarantellas
from your shared cubicle
You both should have been sisters
Born on the same month
And sailed into America
on the same ship.
You bring us Italy
through your cooking:
olive oil drenched cole slaw
made zesty with ground pepper and salt,
amaretto cookies placed on our desks
deep fried calamari rings
at the Willow Grove Bennigan's
and Italian restaurants
in a Maple Glen shopping center.
You both embrace us
with still strong Nonna arms
and crochet bright pink baby clothes
for expecting employees.
On the weekends,
you become bocce ball champs
in Montgomery County
where Italian is still spoken,
To uphold up the old country's heritage
This poem comes out
from our love to you
because just by being our friends
we want to save all our pennies
to see what Italy is really like.
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 7:38 PM UTC
The anvils rang and the hammers rose
To beat out bright blades of dwarvish steel
These were blades for elven kings
For soon the wars would rage
The Mordor hordes were marching
From the blacklands they would come
Bringing death and desolation
To the green and pleasant lands
But the elven hosts were marching
Alongside dwarves and men
And the eagles circled above them
Eyes searching every vale and glen
Bright were the swords of the elven kings
Tightly strung the bows
Heavy the axes and hammers of the mountain dwarves
Long and fierce the spears of men
The horse lords rode there on the flanks
And also in the van
They would be the first to fight
When the orchish hordes came into sight
Orc riders the target for their spears
Wargs the targets for their swords
To buy the times for the elven kings
To form their battle lines
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
Coming thro’ the rye, poor body,
Coming thro’ the rye,
She draiglet a’ her petticoatie
Coming thro’ the rye.
O, Jenny’s a’ wat, poor body;
Jenny’s seldom dry;
She draiglet a’ her petticoatie
Coming thro’ the rye.
Gin a body meet a body
Coming thro’ the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body—
Need a body cry?
Gin a body meet a body
Coming thro’ the glen,
Gin a body kiss a body—
Need the warld ken?
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there was little cow he was black and white
and he used to sleep walk whenever it was night
he wandered all around walking in his sleep
all around the meadow then in among the sheep
he wandered through the dale and all along the glen
then he would turn around and walk back home again
back in to his bed the little cow would creep
the he would settle down and fall back fast asleep
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 12:01 PM UTC
Think me not unkind and rude,
That I walk alone in grove and glen;
I go to the god of the wood
To fetch his word to men.
Tax not my sloth that I
Fold my arms beside the brook;
Each cloud that floated in the sky
Writes a letter in my book.
Chide me not, laborious band,
For the idle flowers I brought;
Every aster in my hand
Goes home loaded with a thought.
There was never mystery,
But 'tis figured in the flowers,
Was never secret history,
But birds tell it in the bowers.
One harvest from thy field
Homeward brought the oxen strong;
A second crop thine acres yield,
Which I gather in a song.
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The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear.
Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead;
They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread.
The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay,
And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.
Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood
In brighter light, and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?
Alas! they all are in their graves, the gentle race, of flowers
Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours.
The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold November rain
Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.
The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago,
And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow;
But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood,
And the yellow sun-flower by the brook in autumn beauty stood,
Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men,
And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland, glade, and glen.
And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come,
To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home;
When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still,
And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill,
The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore,
And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died,
The fair meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side:
In the cold moist earth we laid her, when the forest cast the leaf,
And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief:
Yet not unmeet it was that one, like that young friend of ours,
So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.
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"O day! he cannot die
When thou so fair art shining!
O Sun, in such a glorious sky,
So tranquilly declining;
He cannot leave thee now,
While fresh west winds are blowing,
And all around his youthful brow
Thy cheerful light is glowing!
Edward, awake, awake--
The golden evening gleams
Warm and bright on Arden's lake--
Arouse thee from thy dreams!
Beside thee, on my knee,
My dearest friend, I pray
That thou, to cross the eternal sea,
Wouldst yet one hour delay:
I hear its billows roar--
I see them foaming high;
But no glimpse of a further shore
Has blest my straining eye.
Believe not what they urge
Of Eden isles beyond;
Turn back, from that tempestuous surge,
To thy own native land.
It is not death, but pain
That struggles in thy breast--
Nay, rally, Edward, rouse again;
I cannot let thee rest!"
One long look, that sore reproved me
For the woe I could not bear--
One mute look of suffering moved me
To repent my useless prayer:
And, with sudden check, the heaving
Of distraction passed away;
Not a sign of further grieving
Stirred my soul that awful day.
Paled, at length, the sweet sun setting;
Sunk to peace the twilight breeze:
Summer dews fell softly, wetting
Glen, and glade, and silent trees.
Then his eyes began to weary,
Weighed beneath a mortal sleep;
And their orbs grew strangely dreary,
Clouded, even as they would weep.
But they wept not, but they changed not,
Never moved, and never closed;
Troubled still, and still they ranged not--
Wandered not, nor yet reposed!
So I knew that he was dying--
Stooped, and raised his languid head;
Felt no breath, and heard no sighing,
So I knew that he was dead.
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Bedroom’s painted fisherman’s blue
There’s a cut out of Hayden Panettiere naked in a pink bikini with a hula-hoop on the back of the door
Copies of British Vogue desperately hidden underneath the bed accompanying an empty bottle of Glen’s
Manchester United duvet cover and matching pillows to boot
The bin’s filled with pre-packed home-made lunches from the last six months
Wardrobes a collection of ill fitting blue jeans bought for me by grandmother and football jerseys for teams that I’ve never even heard of, yet let alone see play a single game
Uniform ironed and sitting out ready for school on Monday at 8am sharp
***** clothes cover mostly all the floor smelling of Lynx’s finest even though there’s an empty laundry basket just waiting in the corner to be used
Inside one of the woolen blazer’s (that is way too big for me) pockets a single unopened ****** and an AES 256-bit encrypted USB stick
An old PlayStation 2, with a single controller; games including FIFA years through 2004 to now, Tom Clancy’s Splinter Cell, and GTA.
Blood red shoplifted lipstick that’s now melted hidden in the little secret compartment at the back, meant for network expansion.
Artemis Fowl, Alex Rider, and Harry Potter all adorn the bookcase
Physics, Maths, and IT textbooks remain firmly closed on the desk in addition to a smashed phone from me and Daddy’s last “physical altercation”
Lady Gaga’s “I Like it Rough” is playing in the background on repeat…
Aug 23, 2020
Aug 23, 2020 at 2:43 PM UTC
When spring, to woods and wastes around,
Brought bloom and joy again,
The murdered traveller's bones were found,
Far down a narrow glen.
The fragrant birch, above him, hung
Her tassels in the sky;
And many a vernal blossom sprung,
And nodded careless by.
The red-bird warbled, as he wrought
His hanging nest o'erhead,
And fearless, near the fatal spot,
Her young the partridge led.
But there was weeping far away,
And gentle eyes, for him,
With watching many an anxious day,
Were sorrowful and dim.
They little knew, who loved him so,
The fearful death he met,
When shouting o'er the desert snow,
Unarmed, and hard beset;--
Nor how, when round the frosty pole
The northern dawn was red,
The mountain wolf and wild-cat stole
To banquet on the dead;--
Nor how, when strangers found his bones,
They dressed the hasty bier,
And marked his grave with nameless stones,
Unmoistened by a tear.
But long they looked, and feared, and wept,
Within his distant home;
And dreamed, and started as they slept,
For joy that he was come.
Long, long they looked--but never spied
His welcome step again,
Nor knew the fearful death he died
Far down that narrow glen.
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