Seedlings from My Wild Garden

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Abbey Press, 1902 - American poetry - 239 pages
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Page 42 - Spring, Her banner of life unfurled, — ' Out from the shadow of death's dark wing Calling the sleeping world. Over the sunny hills Sending the silver streams, Swelling the song of the joyous rills ' Neath the fair moon's cloudless beams.
Page 95 - The white, the red, the blue we trace, A soldier's wreath to fashion, And twine about a pictured face, With sighs of deep compassion. Fair river, in thy careless glee, Of joy and glory singing, Thy current to the summer sea...
Page 43 - From the ashes of grim decay, This earth, exultant, brings forth at last The bounding life of May ! The world is growing old — Hoary in pain and crime — Yet, still, the promised age of gold...
Page 96 - Heaven's temple reaching,The red rose — love and health restored The lily — peace beseeching — The harebell blue — the leal and true From all estrangement keeping, — To bind the ties of home anew, And give us songs for weeping.
Page 115 - When the moon comes up from the glittering tide, As if from her diamond caves, We'll list to the song of her vassal throng — The ever-restless waves.
Page 96 - Might carry to a sufferer pale A balm of surest healing — A breeze from northern homesteads hale Through the miasma stealing, So, we, today our garlands twine, The while petitions breathing, Like votaries at a saintly shrine The cherished semblance wreathing.
Page 43 - Yet the gentle maid hath a firmer sway Than the stern, cold king of death. The rocks to dust may fret, The hills and mountains fall, On all things earthly death's seal be set, Yet breaks at last his thrall.
Page 115 - So come over the hills to the sea, love! Come over the hills to the sea!
Page 114 - Will bid all grief depart. We will think no more of the sad, sad past, All joy shall our future be; And we'll muse at will on her kingdom vast, As we gaze on the open sea.
Page 42 - Lady of grace serene, Patiently April wrought, Weaving a robe for the beauteous queen From the promise of life she brought. Her scepter a...

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