The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier

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J. R. Osgood, 1876 - 395 oldal
 

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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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270. oldal - Frietchie then, Bowed with her fourscore years and ten : Bravest of all in Frederick town, She took up the flag the men hauled down ; In her attic window the staff she set, To show that one heart was loyal yet. Up the street came the rebel tread, Stonewall Jackson riding ahead. Under his slouched hat left and right He glanced ; the old flag met his sight. " Halt ! " — the dust-brown ranks stood fast.
206. oldal - She wedded a man unlearned and poor, And many children played round her door. But care and sorrow, and childbirth pain, Left their traces on heart and brain.
196. oldal - With thy red lip, redder still Kissed by strawberries on the hill ; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace; From my heart I give thee joy, — I was once a barefoot boy ! Prince thou art, — the grown-up man Only is republican.
226. 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.
205. oldal - And saw Maud Muller standing still. " A form more fair, a face more sweet, Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet. " And her modest answer and graceful air Show her wise and good as she is fair. " Would she were mine, and I to-day, Like her, a harvester of hay; " No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs, Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues, " But low of cattle and song of birds, And health and quiet and loving words.
205. oldal - ... of the grass and flowers and trees, Of the singing birds and the humming bees; Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether The cloud in the west would bring foul weather. And Maud forgot her brier-torn gown, And her graceful ankles bare and brown ; And listened, while a pleased surprise Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes. At last, like one who for delay Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away. Maud...
227. oldal - But her dog whined low ; on the doorway sill, With his cane to his chin, The old man sat ; and the chore-girl still Sung to the bees stealing out and in. And the song she was singing ever since In my ear sounds on : — 'Stay at home, pretty bees, fly not hence ! Mistress Mary is dead and gone...
287. oldal - Or garden-wall, or belt of wood; A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed, A fenceless drift what once was road; The bridle-post an old man sat *° With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat; The well-curb had a Chinese roof; And even the long sweep, high aloof, In its slant splendor, seemed to tell Of Pisa's leaning miracle. A prompt, decisive man, no breath Our father wasted: "Boys, a path!
124. oldal - Oh, brother man ! fold to thy heart thy brother ; Where pity dwells, the peace of God is there ; To worship rightly is to love each other, Each smile a hymn, each kindly deed a prayer. Follow with reverent steps the great example Of Him whose holy work was " doing good ; " So shall the wide earth seem our Father's temple, Each loving life a psalm of gratitude.
286. oldal - Slow tracing down the thickening sky Its mute and ominous prophecy, A portent seeming less than threat, It sank from sight before it set. A chill no coat, however stout, Of homespun stuff could quite shut out, A hard, dull bitterness of cold, That cheeked, mid-vein, the circling race Of life-blood in the sharpened face, The coming of the snow-storm told.

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