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Página 104 - Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers, Ere the sorrow comes with years? They are leaning their young heads against their mothers, And that cannot stop their tears. The young lambs are bleating in the meadows, The young birds are chirping in the nest, The young fawns are playing with the shadows, The young flowers are blowing toward the west — But the young, young children, O my brothers, They are weeping bitterly! They are weeping in the playtime of the others, In the country of the free.
Página 56 - Life loveth life and good ; then trust What most the spirit would, it must ; Deep wishes, in the heart that be, Are blossoms of Necessity. A thread of Law runs through thy prayer, Stronger than iron cables are ; And Love and Longing toward her goal Are pilots sweet to guide the SouL So Life must live, and Soul must sail, And Unseen over Seen prevail, And all God's argosies come to shore, Let ocean smile, or rage and roar. And so, 'mid storm or calm, my bark With snowy wake still nears her mark ;...
Página 145 - Give a little love to a child, and you get a great deal back. It loves everything near it, when it is a right kind of child — would...
Página 78 - I looked at my watch and found that the train would soon be starting for Boston, and I knew there was not much time to lose in trying to discover what had been his literary work during these last few years in Salem. I remember that I pressed him to reveal to me what he had been writing. He shook his head and gave me to understand he had produced nothing.
Página 233 - We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow. Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him, — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Página 87 - Under the Greenwood Tree Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun And loves to live i...
Página 177 - Tis the fainting poor, Whose eye with want is dim, Whom hunger sends from door to door — > Go thou and succour him.
Página 233 - But half of our heavy task was done, When the clock struck the hour for retiring; And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing.
Página 152 - No man can tell whether he is rich or poor by turning to his ledger. It is the heart that makes a man rich. He is rich or poor according to what he is, not according to what he has.
Página 194 - Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky, In joyless fields and thorny thickets, leaves His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man His annual visit. Half afraid, he first Against the window beats; then, brisk, alights On the warm hearth; then, hopping o'er the floor, Eyes all the smiling family askance, And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is; Till more familiar grown, the table-crumbs Attract his slender feet.