Poems: By John G. Whittier, Illus. by H. Billing |
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Page 10
... heard above us , like a voice in the cloud , The horn of Fabyan sounding ; and atop Of old Agioochook had seen the mountains Piled to the northward , shagged with wood , and thick As meadow mole hills- the far sea of Casco , - A white ...
... heard above us , like a voice in the cloud , The horn of Fabyan sounding ; and atop Of old Agioochook had seen the mountains Piled to the northward , shagged with wood , and thick As meadow mole hills- the far sea of Casco , - A white ...
Page 11
... Who had joined our gay trout - fishing in the streams Which lave that giant's feet ; whose laugh was heard Like a bird's carol on the sunrise breeze Which swelled our sail amidst the lake's green islands , THE BRIDAL OF PENNACOOK . 11.
... Who had joined our gay trout - fishing in the streams Which lave that giant's feet ; whose laugh was heard Like a bird's carol on the sunrise breeze Which swelled our sail amidst the lake's green islands , THE BRIDAL OF PENNACOOK . 11.
Page 16
... heard , At his call the war - dance stirred , Or was still once more . There his spoils of chase and war , Jaw of wolf and black bear's paw , Panther's skin and eagle's claw , Lay beside his axe and bow ; And , adown the roof - pole ...
... heard , At his call the war - dance stirred , Or was still once more . There his spoils of chase and war , Jaw of wolf and black bear's paw , Panther's skin and eagle's claw , Lay beside his axe and bow ; And , adown the roof - pole ...
Page 19
... heard no more , And when the robe her mother gave , And small , light mocasin she wore , Had slowly wasted on her grave , Unmarked of him the dark maids sped Their sunset dance and moon - lit play ; No other shared his lonely bed , No ...
... heard no more , And when the robe her mother gave , And small , light mocasin she wore , Had slowly wasted on her grave , Unmarked of him the dark maids sped Their sunset dance and moon - lit play ; No other shared his lonely bed , No ...
Page 20
... heard Eyes by his lodge - fire flashing dark , Small fingers stringing bead and shell Or weaving mats of bright - hued bark , → - With these the household - god had graced his wigwam well . Child of the forest ! strong and free ...
... heard Eyes by his lodge - fire flashing dark , Small fingers stringing bead and shell Or weaving mats of bright - hued bark , → - With these the household - god had graced his wigwam well . Child of the forest ! strong and free ...
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Common terms and phrases
angels arms bear beauty beneath blessed blood breath broken brow child cloud cold comes dark daughters dead death deep door dream earth evil faith fall fathers fear feel feet fell fire flow flowers Freedom Give glance gone grave green Hall hand hath head hear heard heart Heaven hills holy hour human Indian land leaves light lips living lone look mountain never night o'er once pain passed poor prayer priest Quaker rest rise river rock round scorn seen shade shadow shame shore side slave smile soft song soul sound Speak spirit stand stood strong tears tell thee thine thou thought tree truth turn unto voice wall waters wave weary wild wind wood wrong young
Popular passages
Page 170 - Our fathers to their graves have gone; Their strife is past, their triumph won; But sterner trials wait the race Which rises in their honored place; A moral warfare with the crime And folly of an evil time. So let it be. In God's own might We gird us for the coming fight, And, strong in Him whose cause is ours In conflict with unholy powers, We grasp the weapons He has given,— The Light, and Truth, and Love of Heaven.
Page 316 - O'er the rabble's laughter ; And, while Hatred's fagots burn, Glimpses through the smoke discern Of the good hereafter. Knowing this, that never yet Share of Truth was vainly set In the world's wide fallow ; After hands shall sow the seed, After hands from hill and mead Reap the harvests yellow. Thus, with somewhat of the Seer, Must the moral pioneer From the Future borrow; Clothe the waste with dreams of grain, And, on midnight's sky of rain, Paint the golden morrow 1
Page 262 - s rest in his still countenance ! He mocks no grief with idle cheer, Nor wounds with words the mourner's ear ; But ills and woes he may not cure He kindly trains us to endure. Angel of Patience ! sent to calm Our feverish brows with cooling...
Page iii - I LOVE the old melodious lays Which softly melt the ages through, The songs of Spenser's golden days, Arcadian Sidney's silvery phrase, Sprinkling our noon of time with freshest morning dew.
Page 163 - GONE, gone, — sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone. Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings, Where the noisome insect stings, Where the fever demon strews Poison with the falling dews. Where the sickly sunbeams glare Through the hot and misty air, — Gone, gone, — sold anii 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-swamp dank and lone.
Page 133 - OUR fellow-countrymen in chains! Slaves — in a land of light and law! Slaves — crouching on the very plains Where rolled the storm of Freedom's war! A groan from Eutaw's haunted wood — A wail where Camden's martyrs fell — By every shrine of patriot blood, From Moultrie's wall and Jasper's well!
Page 145 - JUST God ! — and these are they Who minister at Thine altar, God of Right ! Men who their hands with prayer and blessing lay On Israel's Ark of light ! "WTiat ! preach and kidnap men ? Give thanks — and rob Thy own afflicted poor ? Talk of Thy glorious liberty, and then Bolt hard the captive's door...
Page 139 - I love thee with a brother's love, I feel my pulses thrill, To mark thy spirit soar above The cloud of human ill. My heart hath leaped to answer thine, And echo back thy words, As leaps the warrior's at the shine And flash of kindred swords...
Page 150 - Is this the land our fathers loved, The freedom which they toiled to win ? Is this the soil whereon they moved ? Are these the graves they slumber in ? Are we the sons by whom are borne The mantles which the dead have worn ? And shall we crouch above these graves, With craven soul and fettered lip...
Page 247 - He comes — he comes — the Frost Spirit comes ! — from the frozen Labrador — From the icy bridge of the Northern seas, which the white bear wanders o'er — "Where the fisherman's sail is stiff with ice, and the luckless forms below In the sunless cold of the lingering night into marble statues grow!