Child life, poems, ed. by J.G. Whittier

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John Greenleaf Whittier
1874
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Page 168 - ... I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing; My spirit flew in feathers then That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow. I...
Page 237 - And we will then repair Unto the Bell at Edmonton, All in a chaise and pair. 'My sister, and my sister's child, Myself, and children three, Will fill the chaise; so you must ride On horseback after we.
Page 101 - I COME from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally, And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley.
Page 242 - Said Gilpin — So am I! But yet his horse was not a whit Inclined to tarry there; For why? his owner had a house Full ten miles off, at Ware. So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an archer strong; So did he fly — which brings me to The middle of my song. Away went Gilpin, out of breath, And sore against his will, Till at his friend the calender's His horse at last stood still.
Page 135 - Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy songs of happy cheer!" So I sang the same again, While he wept with joy to hear. "Piper, sit thee down and write In a book, that all may read.
Page 147 - Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below, When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer, With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St.
Page 39 - 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; Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond Mine the walnut slopes beyond, Mine, on bending orchard trees, Apples of Hesperides!
Page 100 - HAIL, beauteous stranger of the grove ! Thou messenger of Spring ! Now Heaven repairs thy rural seat, And woods thy welcome sing. Soon as the daisy decks the green, Thy certain voice we hear. Hast thou a star to guide thy path, Or mark the rolling year ? Delightful visitant ! with thee I hail the time of flowers, And hear the sound of music sweet From birds among the bowers.
Page 137 - Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting For fear of little men ; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together ; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather...
Page 173 - STILL sits the school-house by the road, A ragged beggar sunning ; Around it still the sumachs grow, And blackberry- vines are running. Within, the master's desk is seen, Deep scarred by raps official ; The warping floor, the battered seats, The jack-knife's carved initial ; The charcoal...

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