JEANNETTE MARKS
SLEEPY HOLLOW, CONCORD
FOUR graves there are upon the wooded crest,
Each one a shrine to pilgrims ever dear.
Uncovered, mute, are those who tarry here.
Romance's dreaming master lies at rest
Beneath the cedars. Near is one whose breast
Held Mother Nature's lore. Beyond, the seer
And sage. There, one who saw her duty clear,
Her name by little men and women blessed.
Four friends who walked in Concord's pleasant ways
Long years ago. They dwelt and worked apart,
But now the world has crowned them with its bays,
And holds them close forever to its heart.
O, sacred hill! There Genius, guarding stays,
And from its slopes shall never Love depart!
JOHN CLAIR MINOT
THE SWORD OF ARTHUR
A CASTLE stands in Yorkshire
(Oh, the hill is fair and green!)
And far beneath it lies a cave
No living man has seen.
It is the cave enchanted
(Oh, seek it ere ye die!)
And there King Arthur and his knights
In dreamless slumber lie.
One time a peasant found it
(Oh, the years have hurried well!)
It was the day of fate for him,
And this is what befell:
Upon a couch of crystal
(Oh, heart be pure and strong!)
He saw the King, and, close beside,
The armored knights athrong.
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