Among the Hills (John Greenleaf Whittier Poems)
PRELUDEALONG the roadside, like the flowers of goldThat tawny Incas for their gardens wrought,Heavy with sunshine droops the golden-rod,And the ...
PRELUDEALONG the roadside, like the flowers of goldThat tawny Incas for their gardens wrought,Heavy with sunshine droops the golden-rod,And the ...
"I do believe, and yet, in grief,I pray for help to unbelief;For needful strength aside to layThe daily cumberings of ...
AN EPISTLE NOT AFTER THE MANNER OF HORACEOld friend, kind friend! lightly downDrop time's snow-flakes on thy crown!Never be thy ...
'Midst the men and things which willHaunt an old man's memory still,Drollest, quaintest of them all,With a boy's laugh I ...
IT chanced that while the pious troops of FranceFought in the crusade Pio Nono preached,What time the holy Bourbons stayed ...
YON whey-faced brother, who delights to wearA weedy flux of ill-conditioned hair,Seems of the sort that in a crowded placeOne ...
The name the Gallic exile bore,St. Malo! from thy ancient mart,Became upon our Western shoreGreenleaf for Feuillevert.A name to hear ...
Now McEvoy was altar-boyAs long as I remember;He was, bedad, a crabbed lad,And sixty come December.Faith, no one dared to ...
Witlaf, a king of the Saxons, Ere yet his last he breathed,To the merry monks of Croyland His drinking-horn bequeathed,--That, whenever they ...
DEAR BEATRICE , with pleasure I read your kind letter;On the subject, methinks, there could scarce be a better:How vivid ...
Reason, which long had absent been before, Vouchsaf'd one Day to come within my door. Affrighted at th' unusual Sight, ...
I often pause to contemplateThe sadly barren mental stateOf persons whom it is my fate To meet on Monday morning.They ...
Now Jones had left his new-wed bride to keep his house in order, And hied away to the Hurrum Hills ...
THE FAIRY TEMPLE; OR, OBERON'S CHAPEL DEDICATED TO MR JOHN MERRIFIELD, COUNSELLOR AT LAW RARE TEMPLES THOU HAST SEEN, I ...
Christ of His gentleness Thirsting and hungering, Walked in the wilderness; Soft words of grace He spoke Unto lost desert-folk ...
Can we not force from widow'd poetry, Now thou art dead (great Donne) one elegy To crown thy hearse? Why ...
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