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Henry Van Dyke
Henry Van Dyke was an American author, educator, and clergyman known for his poetry, essays, and short stories. He served as a professor of English literature at Princeton University and was appointed by President Woodrow Wilson as the U.S. Minister to the Netherlands and Luxembourg. Van Dyke's notable works include "The Story of the Other Wise Man" and the Christmas carol "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee," set to Beethoven's "Ode to Joy."
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Henry Van Dyke
I He entered the backwoods village of Bytown literally on the wings of the wind. It whirled him along like a big snowflake, and dropped him at the door of Moody's "Sportsmen's Retreat," as if he were a New Year's gift from the North Pole. His coming seemed a mere chance; but perhaps there was something more in it, after all. At all events, you shall hear, if you will, the time...
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Henry Van Dyke
ACT I SCENE I Night, in the garden of NAAMAN at Damascus. At the left, on a slightly raised terrace, the palace, with softly gleaming lights and music coming from the open latticed windows. The garden is full of oleanders, roses, pomegranates, abundance of crimson flowers; the air is heavy with their fragrance: a fountain at the right is plashing gently: behind it is an arbour covered with vines. Near...
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Henry Van Dyke
PRELUDEAN ANGLER'S WISH IN TOWNWhen tulips bloom in Union Square,And timid breaths of vernal airAre wandering down the dusty town,Like children lost in Vanity Fair; When every long, unlovely rowOf westward houses stands aglowAnd leads the eyes toward sunset skies,Beyond the hills where green trees grow; Then weary is the street parade,And weary books, and weary trade:I'm only wishing to go...
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Henry Van Dyke
DAYS OFF "A DAY OFF" said my Uncle Peter, settling down in his chair before the open wood-fire, with that air of complacent obstinacy which spreads over him when he is about to confess and expound his philosophy of life,—"a day off is a day that a man takes to himself." "You mean a day of luxurious solitude," I said, "a stolen sweet of time, which he carries away into some...
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Henry Van Dyke
LEGEND Long ago Apollo called to Aristaeus, youngest of the shepherds, Saying, "I will make you keeper of my bees." Golden were the hives, and golden was the honey; golden, too, the music, Where the honey-makers hummed among the trees. Happy Aristaeus loitered in the garden, wandered in the orchard, Careless and contented,...
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Henry Van Dyke
eace is one of the great words of the Holy Scriptures. It is woven through the Old Testament and the New like a golden thread. It inheres and abides in the character of God,— "The central peace subsisting at the heart Of endless agitation." It is the deepest and most universal desire of man, whose prayer in all ages has been, "Grant us Thy Peace, O Lord." It is...
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Henry Van Dyke
THE AFTER-ECHO How long the echoes love to play Around the shore of silence, as a wave Retreating circles down the sand! One after one, with sweet delay,The mellow sounds that cliff and island gave, Have lingered in the crescent bay, Until, by lightest breezes fanned,They float far off beyond the dying day And leave it still as death. But...
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Henry Van Dyke
The Sign in the Sky IN the days when Augustus Caesar was master of many kings and Herod reigned in Jerusalem, there lived in the city of Ecbatana, among the mountains of Persia, a certain man named Artaban, the Median. His house stood close to the outermost of the seven walls which encircled the royal treasury. From his roof he could look over the rising battlements of black and white and...
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Henry Van Dyke
A REMEMBERED DREAM This is the story of a dream that came to me some five-and-twenty years ago. It is as vivid in memory as anything that I have ever seen in the outward world, as distinct as any experience through which I have ever passed. Not all dreams are thus remembered. But some are. In the records of the mind, where the inner chronicle of life is written, they are intensely clear and veridical....
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Henry Van Dyke
There was an air of calm and reserved opulence about the Weightman mansion that spoke not of money squandered, but of wealth prudently applied. Standing on a corner of the Avenue no longer fashionable for residence, it looked upon the swelling tide of business with an expression of complacency and half-disdain. The house was not beautiful. There was nothing in its straight front of chocolate-colored...
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