Companion Poets, Volume 1 |
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Page 17
... not hear the truth the less No seal is on the Yankee's mouth , No fetter on the Yankee's press ! From our Green Mountains to the Sea , One voice shall thunder- WE ARE FREE ! 17 Kingdon sellin THE FAREWELL OF A VIRGINIA SLAVE MOTHER TO.
... not hear the truth the less No seal is on the Yankee's mouth , No fetter on the Yankee's press ! From our Green Mountains to the Sea , One voice shall thunder- WE ARE FREE ! 17 Kingdon sellin THE FAREWELL OF A VIRGINIA SLAVE MOTHER TO.
Page 19
... voice shall greet them There no father's welcome meet them . Gone , gone sold and gone , To the rice - swamp dank and lone , From Virginia's hills and waters , Woe is me , my stolen daughters ! Gone , gone sold and gone , To the rice ...
... voice shall greet them There no father's welcome meet them . Gone , gone sold and gone , To the rice - swamp dank and lone , From Virginia's hills and waters , Woe is me , my stolen daughters ! Gone , gone sold and gone , To the rice ...
Page 22
... voice , like the sound in the cloud , When the roar of the storm waxes loud and more loud , Wherever the foot of the freeman hath pressed From the Delaware's marge to the Lake of the West , On the South - going breezes shall deepen and ...
... voice , like the sound in the cloud , When the roar of the storm waxes loud and more loud , Wherever the foot of the freeman hath pressed From the Delaware's marge to the Lake of the West , On the South - going breezes shall deepen and ...
Page 23
MASSACHUSETTS TO VIRGINIA . The voice of a PEOPLE - uprisen awake Pennsylvania's watchword , with Freedom at stake , Thrilling up from each valley , flung down from each height , " OUR COUNTRY AND LIBERTY ! GOD FOR THE RIGHT ! " 23 ...
MASSACHUSETTS TO VIRGINIA . The voice of a PEOPLE - uprisen awake Pennsylvania's watchword , with Freedom at stake , Thrilling up from each valley , flung down from each height , " OUR COUNTRY AND LIBERTY ! GOD FOR THE RIGHT ! " 23 ...
Page 24
... voices , at your bidding , take up the bloodhound's yell We gather , at your summons , above our fathers ' graves , From Freedom's holy altar - horns to tear your wretched slaves ! Thank God ! not yet so vilely can Massachusetts bow ...
... voices , at your bidding , take up the bloodhound's yell We gather , at your summons , above our fathers ' graves , From Freedom's holy altar - horns to tear your wretched slaves ! Thank God ! not yet so vilely can Massachusetts bow ...
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.