Alec de Candole

Alec de Candole Poems

O Sleep, sweet sleep, come over me.
And waft me to the land of dreams.
Where everywhere flow copious streams

I have not lived in vain, if one of men,
Who trod the earth and breathed the air with me,
Have felt the touch of man's divinity

In that rough barn we knelt, and took and ate
Simply together there the bread divine.
The body of God made flesh, and drank in wine

Not once, but often, Truth has been rewarded
With fiercest hatred, foulest calumny,
While Vice has reigned supreme, by men belauded,

O God, for Truth, or some faint glimpse of Truth,
To smite through mists of night, and pierce the sense,
And drive away the dreary vast offence

— THE old, the bitter, everlasting Why,
That rises ever to the throne of God,
His human creatures' wail. And some have cursed

And if a bullet in the midst of strife
Should still the pulse of this unquiet life
Twere well: be death an everlasting rest,

As one that stands upon the beetling sheer
Of some dread precipice, when midmost night
With whelming dark has hidden from his sight

As one who wanders on a desert plain.
An arid waste of dead sterility,
Then finds a green oasis suddenly.

Changeful with glow and chequered shade, a sight
Now gloom'd with grief, and now with joy elate,
How strange, how sweet, is life, how poised our ...

For them, the bitterness of death is past ;
For us, we know not how our lot is cast,
To live or die, or worse, to suffer pain,
That rends and t ...

Hast thou beheld a night of burning stars?
With ev'n such silent eyes does GOD behold
The world and all its sorrows from of old,

Here's to the glory of life, to the good and the ill that we know
To the loves and the passions of men as they move and they live,

The breath of God, a wind from heaven's throne,
Like friendship's sweetness, and like pain's sharp strength,

The soil of the land is holy,
Sacred to love and laughter.
But 't will only light the lowly,
Our skyey temple-rafter.
Others will deem the sc ...

The sunset clouds are glowing blue and red ;
Methinks they speak of past and future fate ;
For like blue hills behind I leave the state

The truth of God is known,
'Give up,' some cry, 'thy own
Weak thought ;
Learn what thou ought,'

The wind that blustered yestermorn,
And swept the ground and shook the treetops,
Then, howling, to the hills forlorn

We gaze upon the apple-flower in bud,
Knowing decay will brown the pink-hued bloom
We see a summer morning's sunshine-flood,

TOGETHER we are glad and sing today,
Exulting in the birth of that sweet Child
Who to God's Father-heart has reconciled

The Best Poem Of Alec de Candole

O Sleep, Sweet Sleep

O Sleep, sweet sleep, come over me.
And waft me to the land of dreams.
Where everywhere flow copious streams
Of honeyed wine, and every tree
Hangs down its branches to the ground
Fruit-laden, and on all sides round
The land smiles, beautiful and free.

No pain is there, nor any toil;
Far from the din of human life.
Far from the harsh unlovely strife.
Far from the tumult and the moil
Of struggling men, — there, far away.
In that sweet land the flowers of May
Spring aye unbidden from the soil.

O glorious land of dreams! I long
To visit thee and see thy bowers,
And lay myself amid thy flowers,
And spread my weary limbs among
Thy fragrant herbs, that so I may
Return to meet the toils of day
With manly heart, content and strong.

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