AUGUST TWENTIETH

I see the lights of the village

Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me,
That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,

And resembles sorrow only

As the mist resembles the rain.

The Day is Done

AUGUST TWENTY-FIRST

Then read from the treasured volume

The poem of thy choice,

And lend to the rhyme of the poet

The beauty of thy voice.

The Day is Done

AUGUST TWENTY-SECOND

Ye whose hearts are fresh and simple,
Who have faith in God and Nature,
Who believe, that in all ages

Every human heart is human,
That in even savage bosoms

There are longings, yearnings, strivings
For the good they comprehend not,
That the feeble hands and helpless,
Groping blindly in the darkness,

Touch God's right hand in that darkness
And are lifted up and strengthened;-

Listen to this simple story,
To this Song of Hiawatha!

The Song of Hiawatha

AUGUST TWENTY-THIRD

There he sang of Hiawatha,
Sang the Song of Hiawatha,
Sang his wondrous birth and being,
How he prayed and how he fasted,
How he lived, and toiled, and suffered,
That the tribes of men might prosper,
That he might advance his people!

AUGUST TWENTY-FOURTH

The Song of Hiawatha

Hast thou e'er reflected

How much lies hidden in that one word, now?
Yes; all the awful mystery of Life!

AUGUST TWENTY-FIFTH

The Spanish Student

But that one deed of charity I'll do,

Befall what may; they cannot take that from me.

The Spanish Student

AUGUST TWENTY-SIXTH

Go, sin no more! Thy penance o'er,

Go, sin no more! He will restore
The peace that filled thy heart before,
And pardon thine iniquity!

The Golden Legend

AUGUST TWENTY-SEVENTH

I stand without here in the porch,

I hear the bell's melodious din,
I hear the organ peal within,

I hear the prayer, with words that scorch
Like sparks from an inverted torch,

I hear the sermon upon sin,

With threatenings of the last account.
And all, translated in the air,

Reach me but as our dear Lord's Prayer,

And as the Sermon on the Mount.

AUGUST TWENTY-EIGHTH

The reign of violence is o'er
Or dying surely from the world;
While Love triumphant reigns instead,
And in a brighter sky o'erhead
His blessed banners are unfurled.
And most of all thank God for this:
The war and waste of clashing creeds
Now end in words, and not in deeds,
And no one suffers loss, or bleeds,
For thoughts that men call heresies.

Interlude

Interlude

And he rushed into the wigwam,
Saw the old Nokomis slowly
Rocking to and fro and moaning,
Saw his lovely Minnehaha

Lying dead and cold before him,
And his bursting heart within him
Uttered such a cry of anguish,

That the forest moaned and shuddered,
That the very stars in heaven

Shook and trembled with his anguish.

The Song of Hiawatha

AUGUST THIRTIETH

"Farewell!" said he, "Minnehaha!
Farewell, O my Laughing Water!
All my heart is buried with you,
All my thoughts go onward with you!
Come not back again to labor,
Come not back again to suffer,
Where the Famine and the Fever
Wear the heart and waste the body.
Soon my task will be completed,
Soon your footsteps I shall follow
To the Islands of the Blessed,
To the Kingdom of Ponemah,
To the Land of the Hereafter!"

The Song of Hiawatha

AUGUST THIRTY-FIRST

And the evening sun descending
Set the clouds on fire with redness,
Burned the broad sky, like a prairie,
Left upon the level water

One long track and trail of splendor,
Down whose stream, as down a river,
Westward, westward Hiawatha

Sailed into the fiery sunset,

Sailed into the purple vapors,

Sailed into the dusk of evening.

The Song of Hiawatha