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[9072]
SERENADE
O come, my love, for the world's
at rest, and the sun's asleep in the
curtained West, and the night
breeze sighs from between the stars,
and my airship waits by your
window bars! We'll sail the sea
of the waveless wind, we'll leave
the earth and its dross behind, and
watch its lights from the cloudy
heights-0 come, my love, on
this best of nights! O come, my
love, from your bower in haste, let
us trim our sails for the ether waste,
away, away, where the weary moan
of the workday world is never
known; where the only track is the
track of wings that the skylark
leaves when it soars and sings!
So come, my love, ere the night is
old, and the stars have paled, and
the dawn is cold; the ship can't wait
for its precious freight, for it's
costing a dollar a minute, straight.
Document source description
This file contains poems about polar explorers, as well as North and South Pole expeditions.
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"ocrText": "[9072]\nSERENADE\nO come, my love, for the world's\nat rest, and the sun's asleep in the\ncurtained West, and the night\nbreeze sighs from between the stars,\nand my airship waits by your\nwindow bars! We'll sail the sea\nof the waveless wind, we'll leave\nthe earth and its dross behind, and\nwatch its lights from the cloudy\nheights-0 come, my love, on\nthis best of nights! O come, my\nlove, from your bower in haste, let\nus trim our sails for the ether waste,\naway, away, where the weary moan\nof the workday world is never\nknown; where the only track is the\ntrack of wings that the skylark\nleaves when it soars and sings!\nSo come, my love, ere the night is\nold, and the stars have paled, and\nthe dawn is cold; the ship can't wait\nfor its precious freight, for it's\ncosting a dollar a minute, straight."
}