Ballads of New England

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Fields, Osgood & Company, 1870 - 92 Seiten
 

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Seite 14 - Of the brook are her poor flowers, weed-o'errun, Pansy and daffodil, rose and pink. A year has gone, as the tortoise goes, Heavy and slow ; And the same rose blows, and the same sun glows, And the same brook sings of a year ago. There 's the same sweet clover-smell in the breeze ; And the June sun warm Tangles his wings of fire in the trees,. Setting, as then, over Fernside Farm.
Seite 24 - Sweetly along the Salem road Bloom of orchard and lilac showed. Little the wicked skipper knew Of the fields so green and the sky so blue.
Seite 13 - HERE is the place ; right over the hill Runs the path I took ; You can see the gap in the old wall still, And the stepping-stones in the shallow brook. There is the house, with the gate redbarred, And the poplars tall ; And the barn's brown length, and the cattle-yard, And the white horns tossing above the wall.
Seite 22 - OF all the rides since the birth of time, Told in story or sung in rhyme, — On Apuleius's Golden Ass, Or one-eyed Calendar's horse of brass, Witch astride of a human back, Islam's prophet on Al-Borak, — The strangest ride that ever was sped Was Ireson's, out from Marblehead!
Seite 28 - Woodsy and wild and lonesome, The swift stream wound away, Through birches and scarlet maples Flashing in foam and spray, — Down on the sharp-horned ledges Plunging in steep cascade, Tossing its white-maned waters Against the hemlock's shade.
Seite 74 - RIVERMOUTH Rocks are fair to see, By dawn or sunset shone across, When the ebb of the sea has left them free, To dry their fringes of gold-green moss : For there the river comes winding down From salt sea-meadows and uplands brown, And waves on the outer rocks afoam Shout to its waters,
Seite 23 - Mother and sister, wife and maid, Looked from the rocks of Marblehead Over the moaning and rainy sea, — Looked for the coming that might not be!
Seite 22 - Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart By the women of Marblehead!
Seite 41 - ... wind, The voices of the sea. Her heart is like an outbound ship That at its anchor swings ; The murmur of the stranded shell Is in the song she sings. She sings, and, smiling, hears her praise, But dreams the while of one Who watches from his sea-blown deck The icebergs in the sun.
Seite 26 - THE beaver cut his timber With patient teeth that day, The minks were fish-wards, and the crows Surveyors of highway, — When Keezar sat on the hillside Upon his cobbler's form, With a pan of coals on either hand To keep his waxed-ends warm. And there, in the golden weather, He stitched and hammered and sung j In the brook he moistened his leather, In the pewter mug his tongue.

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