Aechdeacon Barbour (John Greenleaf Whittier Poems)
THROUGH the long hall the shuttered windows shedA dubious light on every upturned head;On locks like those of Absalom the ...
THROUGH the long hall the shuttered windows shedA dubious light on every upturned head;On locks like those of Absalom the ...
From the terrace here, where the hills indent, You can see the uttermost battlement Of the castle there; the Cliffords' home; Where the ...
THE wave is breaking on the shore,The echo fading from the chime;Again the shadow moveth o'erThe dial-plate of time!O seer-seen ...
Poverty, brothers, is a mouthful that's hard to swallow,A bite that sticks in your throat and leaves you in sorrow,When ...
Poverty, brothers, is a mouthful that's hard to swallow,A bite that sticks in your throat and leaves you in sorrow,When ...
In the fair land o'erwatched by Ischia's mountains,Across the charmed bayWhose blue waves keep with Capri's silver fountainsPerpetual holiday,A king ...
Roll back, roll back a hundred years,Thou ever-rolling wheel of time ;Restore again dead hopes and fears,Exhume the undiscovered crime.Why ...
"In the fight at Brandywine, Black Samson, a giant negro armed with a scythe, sweeps his way through the red ranks...." ...
I 'T is the middle of night on the Greenfield farm And the creatures are huddled to keep them from ...
"Soft April sunshine sweetens all the world, Yes, even the county-town with smells of spring; And life is busy where ...
Matriarchy's coming fast, Matriarchy's here!Man's supremacy at last Finds the end is near.Since the days of troglodytes, Man, the lord ...
Do you think that odes and sermons,And the ringing of church bells,And the blood of old men and young men,Martyred ...
I Jesús, Estrella, Esperanza, Mercy: Sails flashing to the wind like weapons, sharks following the moans the fever and the ...
So much else the chattel of the world the chaff of the age that which will not endure Needing to ...
So hard to grapple with the folly of our choices the stubborn march to dismay, destruction the lost souls of ...
Though loth to grieve The evil time's sole patriot, I cannot leave My buried thought For the priest's cant, Or ...
WHEN that Aprilis, with his showers swoot*, *sweet The drought of March hath pierced to the root, And bathed every ...
Do you think that odes and sermons, And the ringing of church bells, And the blood of old men and ...
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