Poems of John Greenleaf Whittier (Google eBook)

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T. Y. Crowell, 1902 - American poetry - 363 pages
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Page 247 - Humming-birds and honey-bees; For my sport the squirrel played, Plied the snouted mole his spade ; For my taste the blackberry cone Purpled over hedge and stone ; Laughed the brook for my delight Through the day and through the night, Whispering at the garden wall, Talked with me from fall to fall...
Page 285 - Said old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart By the women of Marblehead ! 9. Then the wife of the skipper lost at sea Said, "God has touched him ! why should we?
Page xi - Knowledge never learned of schools, Of the wild bee's morning chase, Of the wild flower's time and place, Flight of fowl and habitude Of the tenants of the wood; How the tortoise bears his shell, How the woodchuck digs his cell, And the ground-mole sinks his well; How the robin feeds her young, How the oriole's nest is hung...
Page 385 - So all night long the storm roared on : The morning broke without a sun ; In tiny spherule traced with lines Of Nature's geometric signs, In starry flake, and pellicle, All day the hoary meteor fell ; And, when the second morning shone, We looked upon a world unknown, On nothing we could call our own. Around the glistening wonder bent The blue walls of the firmament, No cloud above, no earth below, A universe of sky and snow...
Page 427 - Through Him the first fond prayers are said Our lips of childhood frame, The last low whispers of our dead Are burdened with His name. Our Lord and Master of us all ! Whate'er our name or sign, We own Thy sway, we hear Thy call, We test our lives by Thine.
Page 258 - Maud Muller looked and sighed: "Ah, me! That I the Judge's bride might be! He would dress me up in silks so fine, And praise and toast me at his wine. "My father should wear a broadcloth coat; My brother should sail a painted boat...
Page 258 - Raked the meadow sweet with hay. Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health. Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee The mock-bird echoed from his tree. But when she glanced to the far-off town, White from its hill-slope looking down, The sweet song died, and a vague unrest And a nameless longing filled her breast, A wish that she hardly dared to own, For something better than she had known.
Page 259 - ... mused beside the well Till the rain on the unraked clover fell. He wedded a wife of richest dower, Who lived for fashion, as he for power. Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow, He watched a picture come and go; And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes Looked out in their innocent surprise. Oft, when the wine in his glass was red, He longed for the wayside well instead; And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms To dream of meadows and clover-blooms. And the proud man sighed, with a secret pain,...
Page 363 - The laws of changeless justice bind Oppressor with oppressed; And close as sin and suffering joined We march to fate abreast.
Page 285 - 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.

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