The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier

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Houghton, Mifflin, 1895 - 542 oldal
Collects all the verse of the Massachusetts-born poet whose humanitarianism and great popular appeal established him as an important 19th-century figure.
 

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LibraryThing Review

Felhasználói ismertető  - DanielSTJ - LibraryThing

This was an interesting series of poems. While they are archaic, some of the language possesses a fervent expression of poetical poise that brings the work up as a whole. There are numerous good lines ... Teljes értékelés elolvasása

LibraryThing Review

Felhasználói ismertető  - sallylou61 - LibraryThing

This collection is a selection of Whittier's poetry. It is divided into five sections: "Prophet of the Republic" (social reform, especially in relation to slavery), "The Warming Haze of Yesterday ... Teljes értékelés elolvasása

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401. oldal - 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.
189. oldal - But let its humbled sons, instead, From sea to lake, A long lament, as for the dead, In sadness make. Of all we loved and honored, naught Save power remains, — A fallen angel's pride of thought, Still strong in chains. All else is gone : from those great eyes The soul has fled : When faith is lost, when honor dies, The man is dead!
399. oldal - Cheerily, then, my little man, 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...
49. oldal - ... wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health. Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee The mock-bird echoed from his tree. But when she glanced to the far-off town, White from its hill-slope looking down, The sweet song died, and a vague unrest And a nameless longing filled her breast, A wish, that she hardly dared to own, 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...
403. oldal - We turn the pages that they read, Their written words we linger o'er, But in the sun they cast no shade, No voice is heard, no sign is made, No step is on the conscious floor...
403. oldal - Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, Nor looks to see the breaking day Across the mournful marbles play! Who hath not learned, in hours of faith, The truth to flesh and sense unknown, That Life is ever lord of Death And Love can never lose its own...
61. oldal - Here is the place; right over the hill Runs the path I took; You can see the gap in the old wall still, And the stepping-stones in the shallow brook. There is the house, with the gate red-barred, And the poplars tall; And the barn's brown length, and the cattle-yard, And the white horns tossing above the wall. There are the beehives ranged in the sun; And down by the brink Of the brook are her poor flowers, weed-o'errun, Pansy and daffodil, rose and pink. A year has gone, as the tortoise goes, Heavy...
50. oldal - The tallow candle an astral burned ; 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,
405. oldal - The air with sweetness; all the hills Stretch green to June's unclouded sky; But still I wait with ear and eye For something gone which should be nigh, A loss in all familiar things, In flower that blooms, and bird that sings. And yet, dear heart! remembering thee, Am I not richer than of old? Safe in thy immortality, What change can reach the wealth I hold?
407. oldal - What set her feet in solitudes, And held the love within her mute, What mingled madness in the blood, A life-long discord and annoy, Water of tears with oil of joy, And hid within the folded bud Perversities of flower and fruit. It is not ours to separate The tangled skein of will and fate...

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