A Picture - Steen Steensen Blicher

I lay on my heathery hills alone;

  The storm-winds rushed o'er me in turbulence loud;

My head rested lone on the gray moorland stone;

  My eyes wandered skyward from cloud unto cloud.

The village schoolmaster - Willem Bilderdijk

There he sits; his figure and his rigid bearing

Let us know most clearly what is his ideal:–

Confidence in self, in his lofty standing;

Thereto add conceit in his own great value.

Certain, he can read–yes, and write and cipher;

In the almanac no star-group's a stranger.

The North wind and the Sun - Babrius

Betwixt the North wind and the Sun arose

A contest, which would soonest of his clothes

Strip a wayfaring clown, so runs the tale.

The Storm - Alcæus of Mytilene

Now here, now there, the wild waves sweep,

Whilst we, betwixt them o'er the deep,

In shatter'd tempest-beaten bark,

With laboring ropes are onward driven,

The Harvesters - Aleardo Aleardi

What time in summer, sad with so much light,

The sun beats ceaselessly upon the fields;

The harvesters, as famine urges them,

Draw hitherward in thousands, and they wear

The look of those that dolorously go