The Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 2Ticknor and Fields, 1861 |
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Page 28
... Blessed Moth- er , save my brain ! I can see the wounded crawling slowly out from Now they stagger , blind and bleeding ; now they heaps of slain . fall , and strive to rise ; before our eyes ! " Hasten , sisters , haste and save them ...
... Blessed Moth- er , save my brain ! I can see the wounded crawling slowly out from Now they stagger , blind and bleeding ; now they heaps of slain . fall , and strive to rise ; before our eyes ! " Hasten , sisters , haste and save them ...
Page 29
... blessed cross before thee ! mercy ! mercy ! all is o'er ! " Dry thy tears , my poor Ximena ; lay thy dear one down to rest ; Let his hands be meekly folded , lay the cross upon his breast ; Let his dirge be sung hereafter , and his ...
... blessed cross before thee ! mercy ! mercy ! all is o'er ! " Dry thy tears , my poor Ximena ; lay thy dear one down to rest ; Let his hands be meekly folded , lay the cross upon his breast ; Let his dirge be sung hereafter , and his ...
Page 30
... blessed them in a strange and Northern tongue . Not wholly lost , oh Father ! is this evil world of ours ; Upward , through its blood and ashes , spring afresh the Eden flowers ; From its smoking hell of battle , Love and Pity 30 ...
... blessed them in a strange and Northern tongue . Not wholly lost , oh Father ! is this evil world of ours ; Upward , through its blood and ashes , spring afresh the Eden flowers ; From its smoking hell of battle , Love and Pity 30 ...
Page 34
... Blessed me as I passed her door ; And the snooded daughter , Through her casement glancing down , Smiled on him who bore renown From red fields of slaughter . " Hard to feel the stranger's scoff , Hard the old friend's falling off ...
... Blessed me as I passed her door ; And the snooded daughter , Through her casement glancing down , Smiled on him who bore renown From red fields of slaughter . " Hard to feel the stranger's scoff , Hard the old friend's falling off ...
Page 52
... blessed The pilgrim's bed of desert sand , Like Jacob's stone of rest . That down the hush of Syrian skies Some sweet - voiced saint at twilight sings The song whose holy symphonies Are beat by unseen wings ; Till starting from his ...
... blessed The pilgrim's bed of desert sand , Like Jacob's stone of rest . That down the hush of Syrian skies Some sweet - voiced saint at twilight sings The song whose holy symphonies Are beat by unseen wings ; Till starting from his ...
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50 cents 63 cents 75 cents angels autumn beauty beneath blessed bloom brave breath BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR brow calm child Cloth cloud dark dead dear dream earth evil eyes faith fall Father fear fire flowers Freedom Freedom called gilt edge God's gold golden Goodwife grace grave gray green GUY MANNERING hand hath hear heard heart heaven hills holy human Joseph Sturge land leaves light lips living Loch Maree look Lord manhood Martha Mason MAUD MULLER mountains night night is falling o'er pain pale peace pilgrim pines POEMS poor praise prayer round shade shadow shining singing slave Slavery smile snow song soul spake stars summer sunset sweet tears Thebaid thee thine thou thought to-day toil tread tree trod truth unto voice wall waves weary wild wind wood words wrong young
Popular passages
Page 232 - Live and laugh, as boyhood can! Though the flinty slopes be hard, Stubble-speared the new-mown sward, Every morn shall lead thee through Fresh baptisms of the dew ; Every evening from thy feet Shall the cool wind kiss the heat: All too soon these feet must hide In the prison cells of pride, Lose the freedom of the sod, Like a colt's for work be shod, Made to tread the mills of toil, Up and down in ceaseless moil...
Page 258 - For something better than she had known. The Judge rode slowly down the lane, Smoothing his horse's chestnut mane. He drew his bridle in the shade Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid, And ask a draught from the spring that flowed Through the meadow across the road.
Page 19 - We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain, Beneath the sun of May, And frightened from our sprouting grain The robber crows away.
Page 16 - And, beneath it, pond and meadow lay brighter, greener still. And shouting boys in woodland haunts caught glimpses of that sky, Flecked by the many-tinted leaves, and laughed, they knew not why ; And school-girls, gay with aster-flowers, beside the meadow brooks, Mingled the glow of autumn with the sunshine of sweet looks. From spire and barn looked westerly the patient weathercocks ; But even the birches on the hill stood motionless as rocks. No sound was in the woodlands, save the squirrel's dropping...
Page 32 - Comrade mine," said Ury's lord ; " Put it up, I pray thee : Passive to his holy will, Trust I in my Master still, Even though he slay me. " Pledges of thy love and faith, Proved on many a field of death, Not by me are needed.
Page 260 - And for him who sat by the chimney lug, Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug, A manly form at her side she saw, And joy was duty and love was law. Then she took up her burden of life again, Saying only,
Page 50 - The loved and cherished Past upon the new life stealing. Serene and mild the untried light May have its dawning; And, as in summer's northern night The evening and the dawn unite, The sunset hues of Time blend with the soul's new morning. I sit alone; in foam and spray Wave after wave Breaks on the rocks which, stern and gray, Shoulder the broken tide away, Or murmurs hoarse and strong through mossy cleft and cave.
Page 99 - Scorn! would the angels laugh, to mark A bright soul driven, Fiend-goaded, down the endless dark. From hope and heaven! Let not the land once proud of him Insult him now, Nor brand with deeper shame his dim, Dishonored brow.
Page 30 - But the noble Mexic women still their holy task pursued, Through that long, dark night of sorrow, worn and faint and lacking food ; Over weak and suffering brothers, with a tender care they hung, And the dying foeman blessed them in a strange and Northern tongue. Not wholly lost...
Page 31 - UP the streets of Aberdeen, By the kirk and college green, Rode the Laird of Ury ; Close behind him, close beside, Foul of mouth and evil-eyed, Pressed the mob in fury. Flouted him the drunken churl, Jeered at him the serving-girl, Prompt to please her master ; And the begging carlin, late Fed and clothed at Ury's gate, Cursed him as he passed her. Yet, with calm and stately mien, Up the streets of Aberdeen Came he slowly riding ; And, to all he saw and heard, Answering not with bitter word, Turning...