The Writings of John Greenleaf Whittier in 7 V, Volum 4Macmillan & Company, 1889 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
Abraham Davenport Amesbury Attitash beauty beneath bless bloom brave breath brow calm Castine cloud dark dead dear death dream earth Esbern Snare evermore fair faith father fear feet flowers freedom gift glance God's Goody Cole grace grave gray green Hampton River hand hath hear heard heart heaven hills holy human hymn Indian isle Jesuit Joseph Sturge land laugh lift light lips living look Lord Lydia Maria Child memory Merrimac Mogg Megone mountain mournful never night Norridgewock o'er pain pale peace prayer river rock round Sachem Scamman shade shadow shine shore sing smile song sorrow soul sound spirit strife summer sunshine sweet tears tender thee thine thou hast thought to-day toil tread truth vales voice wall Wampanoag warm waves weary wigwam wild WILLIAM FRANCIS BARTLETT William Lloyd Garrison wind wood words
Passatges populars
Pàgina 62 - Revile him not, — the Tempter hath A snare for all ; And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath, Befit his fall ! O, dumb be passion's stormy rage, When he who might Have lighted up and led his age, Falls back in night. Scorn ! would the angels laugh, to mark A bright soul driven, Fiend-goaded, down the endless dark...
Pàgina 205 - Here, where of old, by Thy design, The fathers spake that word of Thine Whose echo is the glad refrain Of rended bolt and falling chain, To grace our festal time, from all The zones of earth our guests we call.
Pàgina 96 - But who his human heart has laid To Nature's bosom nearer ? Who sweetened toil like him, or paid To love a tribute dearer ? Through all his tuneful art, how strong The human feeling gushes ! The very moonlight of his song Is warm with smiles and blushes 1 Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time, So " Bonnie Doon " but tarry ; Blot out the Epic's stately rhyme, But spare his Highland Mary I TO GEORGE B.
Pàgina 107 - So vainly shall Virginia set her battle in array; In vain her trampling squadrons knead the winter snow with clay. She may strike the pouncing eagle, but she dares not harm the dove; And every gate she bars to Hate shall open wide to Love I 18S9.
Pàgina 207 - For art and labor met in truce, For beauty made the bride of use, We thank Thee ; but, withal, we crave The austere virtues strong to save, The honor proof to place or gold, The manhood never bought nor sold ! VI.
Pàgina 38 - ANOTHER hand is beckoning us, Another call is given ; And glows once more with Angel-steps The path which reaches Heaven. Our young and gentle friend whose smile Made brighter summer hours, Amid the frosts of autumn time Has left us with the flowers.
Pàgina 230 - Making his rustic reed of song A weapon in the war with wrong, Yoking his fancy to the breaking-plough That beam-deep turned the soil for truth to spring and grow. Too quiet seemed the man to ride...
Pàgina 62 - Have lighted up and led his age, Falls back in night. 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.
Pàgina 236 - s cursed," said the skipper ; " speak her fair: 1 'm scary always to see her shake Her wicked head, with its wild gray hair, And nose like a hawk, and eyes like a snake.
Pàgina 83 - Wouldst know him now? Behold him, The Cadmus of the blind, Giving the dumb lip language, The idiot-clay a mind. " Walking his round of duty Serenely day by day, With the strong man's hand of labor And childhood's heart of play.