Songs of the Sierras

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Canadian News and Publishing Company, 1871 - American poetry - 200 pages
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Page 175 - In men whom men pronounce divine I find so much of sin and blot, I hesitate to draw a line Between the two, where God has not.
Page 165 - Twenty miles! . . . thirty miles! ... a dim distant speck . Then a long reaching line, and the Brazos in sight! And I rose in my seat with a shout of delight. I stood in my stirrup and...
Page 54 - Tis not a place for mirthfulness, But meditation deep, and prayer, And kneelings on the salted sod, Where man must own his littleness And know the mightiness of God.
Page 165 - Stretching fierce in pursuit of a black rolling sea Rushing fast upon us, as the wind sweeping free And afar from the desert blew hollow and hoarse.
Page 49 - One bloom of crimson crowned its head, A drop of blood, so bright, so red, Yet redolent as roses
Page 167 - Till they died with a wild and desolate moan, As a sea heart-broken on the hard brown stone. . . . And into the Brazos ... I rode all alone, — All alone, save only a horse long-limbed And blind and bare and burnt to the skin. Then, just as the...
Page 166 - I looked to my left then — and nose, neck, and shoulder Sank slowly, sank surely, till back to my thighs ; And up through the black blowing veil of her hair Did beam full in mine her two marvelous eyes, With a longing and love, yet a look of despair And of pity for me, as she felt the smoke fold her, And flames reaching far for her glorious hair. Her sinking steed faltered, his eager eyes fell To and fro and unsteady, and all the neck's swell Did subside and recede, and the nerves fall as dead....
Page 162 - Room! room to turn round in, to breathe and be free, To grow to be giant, to sail as at sea With the speed of the wind on a steed with his mane To the wind, without pathway or route or a rein. Room! room to be free where the white bordered sea Blows a kiss to a brother as boundless as he...
Page 167 - Pachd, so if kin should pursue I should surely escape without other ado Than to ride, without blood, to the north Brazos side, And await her — and wait till the next hollow moon Hung her horn in the palms, when surely and soon And swift she would join me, and all would be well Without bloodshed or word. And now as she fell From the front, and went down in the ocean of fire, The last that I saw was a look of delight That I should escape — a love — a desire — Yet never a word, not a look of...
Page 163 - To cover us trio and conceal our flight With my brown bride, won from an Indian town That lay in the rear the full ride of a night. "We lounged in the...

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