Mogg Megone – Part II. (John Greenleaf Whittier Poems)
'Tis morning over Norridgewock, —On tree and wigwam, wave and rock.Bathed in the autumnal sunshine, stirredAt intervals by breeze and ...
'Tis morning over Norridgewock, —On tree and wigwam, wave and rock.Bathed in the autumnal sunshine, stirredAt intervals by breeze and ...
The long-piled mountain-snows at last dissolve,Bursting the roaring river's brittle bonds.Ponderous the fragments down the cataract shoot,And, buried in the ...
IT was a calm, still, Sabbath eve--no breezeWent o'er the sleeping flowers, no murmured sound,From Nature's harp of many voices, ...
ANGEL of Death! extend thy silent reign!Stretch thy dark sceptre o'er this new domainNo sable car along the winding roadHas ...
ONE morn, hard by a slumberous streamlet's wave,The plane-trees stirless in the unbreathing calm,And all the lush-red roses drooped in ...
A SCENE FROM BULWER'S ZANONI.IT was the close of day upon the shoresOf beauteous Naples. The low murmuring wavesThat rose ...
Down the green slope he bounded. Raven curls From his white shoulders by the winds were swept, And the clear color of ...
WHEN I am gone, what alien steps shall treadThis flowery garden-close?What alien hands shall pluck the violets sweet,Or gather the ...
I.Thou whose spell can raise the dead,Bid the prophet's form appear."Samuel, raise thy buried head!"King, behold the phantom seer!"Earth yawn'd; ...
Ten paces round me solid earth stretches,Moving as I move through impalpable regionsOf space unbounded, unreal, untenanted,Or tenanted, if tenanted, ...
Poets sing and fables tell us,Or old folk lore whispers low,Of the origin of all things,Of the spring from whence ...
BRING snow-white lilies, pallid heart-flushed roses, Enwreath her brow with heavy-scented flowers; In soft undreaming sleep her head reposes, While, ...
Thou whose spell can raise the dead, Bid the prophet's form appear. "Samuel, raise thy buried head! "King, behold the ...
Thou whose spell can raise the dead, Bid the prophet's form appear. 'Samuel, raise thy buried head! King, behold the ...
On the unbreathing sides of hills they play, a specklike girl and boy, alone, but near a specklike house. The ...
They weave a slow andante as in sleep, Scaled yellow, swampy black, plague-spotted white; With blue and lidless eyes at ...
Fire out of heaven, a flower of perfect fire, That where the roots of life are had its root And ...
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