The Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier: With Notes, Index of First Lines and Chronological List

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H. Frowde, 1904 - 598 Seiten
 

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Seite 429 - BLESSINGS on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan ! With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes ; With thy red lip, redder still Kissed by strawberries on the hill; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace ; From my heart I give thee joy, — I was once a barefoot boy!
Seite 373 - In her attic window the staff she set, To show that one heart was loyal yet. Up the street came the rebel tread. Stonewall Jackson riding ahead. Under his slouched hat left and right He glanced; the old flag met his sight. "Halt!
Seite 430 - Cheerily, then, my little man, Live and laugh, as boyhood can ! Though the flinty slopes be hard, Stubble-speared the new-mown sward. Every morn shall lead thee through Fresh baptisms of the dew ; Every evening from thy feet Shall the cool wind kiss the heat : All too soon these feet must hide In the prison cells of pride, Lose the freedom of the sod, Like a colt's for work be shod...
Seite 574 - Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee ; air, earth, and skies ; There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee ; thou hast great allies ; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and Man's unconquerable mind.
Seite 51 - The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill, And saw Maud Muller standing still. "A form more fair, a face more sweet Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet. "And her modest answer and graceful air Show her wise and good as she is fair.
Seite 372 - UP from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn, The clustered spires of Frederick stand Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.
Seite 52 - Alas for maiden, alas for Judge, For rich repiner and household drudge! God pity them both! and pity us all, Who vainly the dreams of youth recall. For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: "It might have been...
Seite 430 - How the oriole's nest is hung; Where the whitest lilies blow, Where the freshest berries grow, Where the ground-nut trails its vine, Where the wood-grape's clusters shine; Of the black wasp's cunning way, Mason of his walls of clay, And the architectural plans Of gray hornet artisans!
Seite 373 - Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf. She leaned far out on the window-sill, And shook it forth with a royal will. "Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, But spare your country's flag,
Seite 204 - Have lighted up and led his age, Falls back in night. Scorn! would the angels laugh, to mark A bright soul driven, Fiend-goaded, down the endless dark, From hope and heaven! Let not the land once proud of him Insult him now, Nor brand with deeper shame his dim, Dishonored brow.

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