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Alden American angels answer arms beautiful breath bright Building called Captain closed clouds coming dark dead death deep dreams earth Edited England English eyes face fair fall fear feeling feet fields fire flowers forest forever give gleam golden grave hand hear heard heart heaven High Indian Italy John King land leaves light living Longfellow look Lord loud maiden March Master Miles Standish morning nature never night o'er ocean once Page passed Plymouth poem poet prayer Priscilla rain rest rise river round sail School seemed shadows ship side silent sleep snow soft song soul sound spake speak stands stars stood strong sweet Take thee thou thoughts town translation turn village voice walls waters wave wild wind woods youth
Page 72 - When the hours of Day are numbered, And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight...
Page 127 - I SHOT an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, 1 knew not where ; For who has sight so keen and strong.
Page 93 - THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. IT was the schooner Hesperus, That sailed the wintry sea ; And the skipper had taken his little daughter, To bear him company.
Page 189 - And the bugle wild and shrill. And the music of that old song Throbs in my memory still : " A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.
Page 197 - WHENE'ER a noble deed is wrought, Whene'er is spoken a noble thought, Our hearts, in glad surprise, To higher levels rise. The tidal wave of deeper souls Into our inmost being rolls, And lifts us unawares Out of all meaner cares.
Page 97 - His hair is crisp, and black and long, His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
Page 143 - We know what Master laid thy keel, What workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!
Page 188 - OFTEN I think of the beautiful town That is seated by the sea ; Often in thought go up and down The pleasant streets of that dear old town, And my youth comes back to me. And a verse of a Lapland song Is haunting my memory still : " A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.