Songs of Labor, and Other Poems (Google eBook)

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1850 - 127 pages
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Page 111 - The riches of the commonwealth Are free, strong minds, and hearts of health ; And more to her than gold or grain, The cunning hand and cultured brain.
Page 34 - ... autumnal rain Had left the summer harvest-fields all green with grass again; The first sharp frosts had fallen, leaving all the woodlands gay With the hues of summer's rainbow, or the meadowflowers of May. Through a thin, dry mist, that morning, the sun rose broad and red, At first a rayless...
Page 13 - THE SHIP-BUILDERS. THE sky is ruddy in the east, The earth is gray below, And, spectral in the river-mist, The ship's white timbers show. Then let the sounds of measured stroke And grating saw begin ; The...
Page 93 - Revile him not the Tempter hath A snare for all ; And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath, Befit his fall ! Oh ! dumb be passion's stormy rage, When he who might Have lighted up and led his age, Falls back in night.
Page 34 - THE HUSKERS. IT was late in mild October, and the long autumnal rain Had left the summer harvest-fields all green with grass again; The first sharp frosts had fallen, leaving all the woodlands gay With the hues of summer's rainbow, or the meadowflowers of May.
Page 40 - We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain Beneath the sun of May, And frightened from our sprouting grain The robber crows away. All through the long, bright days of June Its leaves grew green and fair, And waved in hot midsummer's noon Its soft and yellow hair. And now, with autumn's moonlit eves, Its harvest- time has come, We pluck away the frosted leaves, And bear the treasure home.
Page 36 - Mingled the glow of autumn with the sunshine of sweet looks. From spire and barn looked westerly the patient weathercocks; But even the birches on the hill stood motionless as rocks. No sound was in the woodlands, save the squirrel's dropping shell, And the yellow leaves among the boughs, low rustling as they fell.
Page 94 - But let its humbled sons, instead, From sea to lake, A long lament, as for the dead, In sadness make. Of all we loved and honored, naught Save power remains; A fallen angel's pride of thought, Still strong in chains.
Page 6 - So haply these, my simple lays Of homely toil, may serve to show The orchard bloom and tasselled maize That skirt and gladden duty's ways, The unsung beauty hid life's common things below. Haply from them the toiler, bent Above his forge or plough, may gain A manlier spirit of content, And feel that life is wisest spent Where the strong working hand makes strong the working brain.
Page 41 - Where'er the wide old kitchen hearth Sends up its smoky curls, Who will not thank the kindly earth, And bless our farmer girls! Then shame on all the proud and vain, Whose folly laughs to scorn The blessing of our hardy grain, Our wealth of golden corn ! Let earth withhold her goodly root, Let mildew blight the rye, Give to the worm the orchard's fruit, The wheat-field to the fly : But let the good old crop adorn The hills our fathers trod ; Still let us, for his golden corn, Send up our thanks to...

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