The Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier

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Houghton, Osgood & Company, 1879 - 505 oldal
 

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328. oldal - It shivered the window, pane and sash ; It rent the banner with seam and gash. Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf; She leaned far out on the window-sill And shook it forth with a royal will. "Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, But spare your country's flag,
389. oldal - On ocean or on shore. I know not where His islands lift Their fronded palms in air ; I only know I cannot drift Beyond His love and care.
237. oldal - BLESSINGS on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan ! With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes ; 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.
247. oldal - He spoke 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.
275. oldal - Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart By the women of Marblehead!
248. oldal - 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.
247. oldal - He would dress me up in silks so fine, And praise and toast me at his wine. "My father should wear a broadcloth coat; My brother should sail a painted boat...
389. oldal - The wrong that pains my soul below I dare not throne above, I know not of His hate — I know His goodness and His love.
296. oldal - All as God wills, who wisely heeds To give or to withhold, And knoweth more of all my needs Than all my prayers have told. Enough that blessings undeserved Have marked my erring track ; That wheresoe'er my feet have swerved His chastening turned me back ; That more and more a Providence Of love is understood, Making the springs of time and sense Sweet with eternal good ; That...
329. oldal - Over the heads of the rebel host. Ever its torn folds rose and fell On the loyal winds that loved it well; And through the hill-gaps sunset light Shone over it with a warm good-night.

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