The Works of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 2

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Houghton, Mifflin, 1892
 

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Page 134 - Unwarmed by any sunset light The gray day darkened into night, A night made hoary with the swarm And whirl-dance of the blinding storm, As zigzag wavering to and fro Crossed and recrossed the winged snow : And ere the early bedtime came The white drift piled the window-frame, And through the glass the clothes-line posts Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts.
Page 264 - And so beside the Silent Sea I wait the muffled oar; No harm from him can come to me On ocean or on shore. I know not where his islands lift Their fronded palms in air; I only know I cannot drift Beyond his love and care.
Page 140 - Yet Love will dream, and Faith will trust, (Since He who knows our need is just,) That somehow, somewhere, meet we must.
Page 161 - It touched the tangled golden curls, And brown eyes full of grieving, Of one who still her steps delayed When all the school were leaving.
Page 205 - ALSO, thou son of man. the children of thy people still are talking against thee by the walls and in the doors of the houses, and speak one to another, every one to his brother, saying, Come, I pray you, and hear what is the word that cometh forth from the LORD. And they come unto thee as the people cometh, and they sit before thee as my people, and they near thy words, but they will not do them : for with their mouth they shew much love, but their heart goeth after their covetousness.
Page 128 - O'er me, like a regal tent, Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent, Purple-curtained, fringed with gold, Looped in many a wind-swung fold; While for music came the play Of the pied frogs' orchestra; And, to light the noisy choir, Lit the fly his lamp of fire.
Page 148 - And whirling plate, and forfeits paid, His winter task a pastime made. Happy the snow-locked homes wherein He tuned his merry violin, Or played the athlete in the barn, Or held the good dame's winding-yarn, Or mirth-provoking versions told Of classic legends rare and old, Wherein the scenes of Greece and Rome Had all the commonplace of home...
Page 138 - The buried brooklet could not hear, The music of whose liquid lip Had been to us companionship, And, in our lonely life, had grown To have an almost human tone.
Page 328 - Father ! let Thy Spirit Be with me then to comfort and uphold ; No gate of pearl, no branch of palm I merit, Nor street of shining gold. Suffice it if — my good and ill unreckoned, And both forgiven through Thy abounding grace — I find myself by hands familiar beckoned Unto my fitting place...
Page 108 - New Englander sees round his board The old broken links of affection restored, When the care-wearied man seeks his mother once more, And the worn matron smiles where the girl smiled before, What moistens the lip and what brightens the eye?

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