The Old Burying-Ground (John Greenleaf Whittier Poems)
Our vales are sweet with fern and rose,Our hills are maple-crowned;But not from them our fathers choseThe village burying-ground.The dreariest ...
Our vales are sweet with fern and rose,Our hills are maple-crowned;But not from them our fathers choseThe village burying-ground.The dreariest ...
Ah, haughty hills, sardonic solitudes, What wizard touch hath, crowning you with gold, Cast Tyrian purple o'er broad-shouldered woods, And to your pride ...
The red chief Gheezis, chief of the golden wampum, layAnd watched the west-wind blow adrift the clouds,With breath all flowery, ...
I SAT me down upon a green bank-side,Skirting the smooth edge of a gentle river,Whose waters seemed unwillingly to glide,Like ...
I oft have met her slowly wanderingBeside a leafy stream, her locks blown wild,Her cheeks a hectic flush, more fair ...
The speckled sky is dim with snow,The light flakes falter and fall slow;Athwart the hill-top, rapt and pale,Silently drops a ...
I thought of the road through the glen, With its hawk's nest high in the pine; With its rock, where the fox ...
(For Fr. C. L. O'Donnell)The interlacing treesArise in Gothic traceries,As if a vast cathedral deep and dim;And through the solemn ...
BESIDE the country road with truant graceWild carrot lifts its circles of white lace.From vines whose interwoven branches drapeThe old ...
ALL day and many days I rode,My horse's head set toward the sea;And as I rode a longing came to ...
I had remembrance of a summer morn,When all the glistening field was softly stirredAnd like a child's in happy sleep ...
IOh, for the power to call to aid, of mineOwn humble Muse, the famed and sacred nine.Then might she fitly ...
MY tent stands in a gardenOf aster and goldenrod,Tilled by the rain and the sunshine,And sown by the hand of ...
OH, sweet was the eve when I came from the mill,Adown the green windings of Mulberry hill:My heart like a ...
With the advent of the AutumnTrees behave as Nature taught 'em; Maple, Sumach, Plum and Poplar, and the Chestnut known ...
I saw a miracle to-day!Where the September sunshine layLanguidly as a lost desireUpon a sumach's fading fire,Where calm some pallid ...
CONFIDENT Summer!Thou art here, thou radiant comer;The sumach and bayberry,Soft sighing of the sea,The ever-climbing sun,The pausing of high noonWhen ...
BOOK FIRST. I. ALL valor died not on the plains of Troy. Awake, my Muse, awake! be thine the joy ...
IF you never came with a pigeon rainbow purple Shining in the six o'clock September dusk: If the red sumach ...
YES, the Dead speak to us. This town belongs to the Dead, to the Dead and to the Wilderness. Back ...
WRITE your wishes on the door and come in. Stand outside in the pools of the harvest moon. Bring in ...
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