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A WAY-SIDE FOUNTAIN.
mations. As the Mayor pushed his way
taken up by all the peasants, and to the
through the throng, followed by the suc-
melody of these wild notes the fete in the
cessful couple-who were no other than
woods came to an end. Already the fat
Nannic and Alanik-they marched to the
horses were being reharnessed to the high
space before the pipers, and the Mayor, in
carved carts, into which the women and
a few Breton gutturals, congratulated the
children were climbing. From the tow-
happy pair, handing the girl, who was
er of the church beyond the wood came
panting breathlessly, a crown of tinsel and
the jangle of bells. The sky was melt-
flowers, which she immediately placed
ing into a deep orange in the west, and
upon her coiffe, and to the shining-faced
above in the clear blue shone a few early
young fellow he presented a huge red silk
stars.
handkerchief or sash-I could not make
At the Calvary beside the road the pea-
out which. Now the cider ran in streams
sants had gathered, and stood or knelt for
from the casks, and there was a great rat-
the final prayer of the pardon, and even
tling of cups upon the tables to the health
above the clang of the bells sounded the
of the happy winners. The girls upon
note of the whippoorwill. So we left
the turf walls began a sort of sweet chant
them, and it was night when we reached
with a melancholy refrain, which was
the town.
NANSEN.
BY FLORENCE EARLE COATES.
T° drift with thee, not strive against thy tide,
All-powerful Nature! to pursue thy law,
Attentive,-with devout and childlike awe
Heark'ning unto thy voice, and none beside:
To drift with thee! With thee for friend and guide,
In fragile bark, careless of cold or thaw,
To brave the ice-pack and the dread sea-maw!--
So are man's conquests won, SO glorified.
The truest compass is the seeing soul.
Oh, wond'ring Earth! did not thy spirit glow,
Calling to mind the deathless Genoese,
As Nansen, pilot of the frozen Pole,
Like a young Viking rode the icy floe,
Wresting their secret from the Arctic Seas?
Document source description
This file includes poems, articles, and letters relating to Admiral Robert Peary, the ship Roosevelt, and North and South Pole expeditions.
Page data
- Page
- 59
- Source index
- 0
- Type
- photo
- Media ID
- 7ad4a6645d058070
- Size
- unknown
Document data
- ID
- 518258626
- Core
- doc
- Type
- document
DTO data
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Context sent to Scholar
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"ocrText": "A WAY-SIDE FOUNTAIN.\nmations. As the Mayor pushed his way\ntaken up by all the peasants, and to the\nthrough the throng, followed by the suc-\nmelody of these wild notes the fete in the\ncessful couple-who were no other than\nwoods came to an end. Already the fat\nNannic and Alanik-they marched to the\nhorses were being reharnessed to the high\nspace before the pipers, and the Mayor, in\ncarved carts, into which the women and\na few Breton gutturals, congratulated the\nchildren were climbing. From the tow-\nhappy pair, handing the girl, who was\ner of the church beyond the wood came\npanting breathlessly, a crown of tinsel and\nthe jangle of bells. The sky was melt-\nflowers, which she immediately placed\ning into a deep orange in the west, and\nupon her coiffe, and to the shining-faced\nabove in the clear blue shone a few early\nyoung fellow he presented a huge red silk\nstars.\nhandkerchief or sash-I could not make\nAt the Calvary beside the road the pea-\nout which. Now the cider ran in streams\nsants had gathered, and stood or knelt for\nfrom the casks, and there was a great rat-\nthe final prayer of the pardon, and even\ntling of cups upon the tables to the health\nabove the clang of the bells sounded the\nof the happy winners. The girls upon\nnote of the whippoorwill. So we left\nthe turf walls began a sort of sweet chant\nthem, and it was night when we reached\nwith a melancholy refrain, which was\nthe town.\nNANSEN.\nBY FLORENCE EARLE COATES.\nT° drift with thee, not strive against thy tide,\nAll-powerful Nature! to pursue thy law,\nAttentive,-with devout and childlike awe\nHeark'ning unto thy voice, and none beside:\nTo drift with thee! With thee for friend and guide,\nIn fragile bark, careless of cold or thaw,\nTo brave the ice-pack and the dread sea-maw!--\nSo are man's conquests won, SO glorified.\nThe truest compass is the seeing soul.\nOh, wond'ring Earth! did not thy spirit glow,\nCalling to mind the deathless Genoese,\nAs Nansen, pilot of the frozen Pole,\nLike a young Viking rode the icy floe,\nWresting their secret from the Arctic Seas?"
}