Companion Poets, Volume 1 |
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Page 14
... smile , Thy church shall praise . Grave , reverend men shall tell From Northern pulpits how thy work was blest , While in that vile South Sodom , first and best , Thy poor disciples sell . Oh , shame ! the Moslem thrall , Who , with his ...
... smile , Thy church shall praise . Grave , reverend men shall tell From Northern pulpits how thy work was blest , While in that vile South Sodom , first and best , Thy poor disciples sell . Oh , shame ! the Moslem thrall , Who , with his ...
Page 47
... within his bosom dying , Revive again . Let it go forth ! The millions who are gazing Sadly upon us from afar , shall smile , And unto God devout thanksgiving raising , Bless us the while . O , for your ancient freedom , pure and holy.
... within his bosom dying , Revive again . Let it go forth ! The millions who are gazing Sadly upon us from afar , shall smile , And unto God devout thanksgiving raising , Bless us the while . O , for your ancient freedom , pure and holy.
Page 51
... smiles of grateful eyes , Press down his lids in blindness . There , where with living ear and eye + He heard Potomac's flowing , And , through his tall ancestral trees , Saw Autumn's sunset glowing , He sleeps , - still looking to the ...
... smiles of grateful eyes , Press down his lids in blindness . There , where with living ear and eye + He heard Potomac's flowing , And , through his tall ancestral trees , Saw Autumn's sunset glowing , He sleeps , - still looking to the ...
Page 70
... smiles our bitter grief , With songs our groans of pain ; She mocks with tint of flower and leaf The war - field's crimson stain . Still , in the cannon's pause , we hear Her sweet thanksgiving - psalm ; Too near to God for doubt or ...
... smiles our bitter grief , With songs our groans of pain ; She mocks with tint of flower and leaf The war - field's crimson stain . Still , in the cannon's pause , we hear Her sweet thanksgiving - psalm ; Too near to God for doubt or ...
Page 75
... smiles : Not theirs the terror , hate , and loss That fire yon blazing piles . With oar - strokes timing to their song , They weave in simple lays The pathos of remembered wrong , The hope of better days , The triumph - note that Miriam ...
... smiles : Not theirs the terror , hate , and loss That fire yon blazing piles . With oar - strokes timing to their song , They weave in simple lays The pathos of remembered wrong , The hope of better days , The triumph - note that Miriam ...
Other editions - View all
Companion Poets: Illustrated; Whittier's National Lyrics; Bryant's Voices of ... No preview available - 2018 |
Companion Poets: Illustrated; Whittier's National Lyrics; Bryant's Voices of ... No preview available - 2015 |
Common terms and phrases
angels apple tree beneath blast blessed blood blossoms blue Bob-o'-link breath brow calm chain chee cloud cold crown curse dank and lone dark dead dream earth eyes false earth Faneuil Hall fathers fear fetters flowers Freedom Freedom's God's gone sold grave gray green hand hath hear heard heart heaven holy Katydid land laugh LE MARAIS light lips look lords of Chios Massachusetts Mexitli Moloch Mother mountain mountain band murmur night Northern Northern eagle o'er poor prayer rice-swamp dank rock rolls round shade shadow shadow fall Shadows weaving shame slave slavery Slavery's smile sold and gone song soul sound Spink stars STETHOSCOPE stolen daughters storm strife summer sunny valleys sweet little tears tell thee thine thou toil tread truth turn vale Virginia's hills voice wait wave wild winds woods wrong Ximena young
Popular passages
Page 102 - And shook it forth with a royal will. "Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, But spare your country's flag,
Page 49 - The windflower and the violet, they perished long ago, And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow; But on the hill the goldenrod, and the aster in the wood, And the yellow sunflower by the brook...
Page 41 - The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above them — ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood, Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down, And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And supplication.
Page 8 - To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language ; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness ere he is aware.
Page 49 - They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread. The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay, And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day. Where are the flowers, the fair young...
Page 78 - Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink ; Never was I afraid of man; Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can! Chee, chee, chee. Six white eggs on a bed of hay, Flecked with purple, a pretty sight! There as the mother sits all day, Robert is singing with all his might: Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink ; Nice good wife, that never goes out, Keeping house while I frolic about. Chee, chee, chee.
Page 44 - Forever. Written on thy works I read The lesson of thy own eternity. Lo! all grow old and die; but see again, How on the faltering footsteps of decay Youth presses, — ever gay and beautiful youth In all its beautiful forms.
Page 102 - Over the heads of the rebel host. Ever its torn folds rose and fell On the loyal winds that loved it well; And through the hill-gaps sunset light Shone over it with a warm good-night.
Page 50 - And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home; When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill, The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore, And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
Page 10 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, which moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.