Dedication – Songs of Labor (John Greenleaf Whittier Poems)
I WOULD the gift I offer hereMight graces from thy favor take,And, seen through Friendship's atmosphere,On softened lines and coloring, ...
I WOULD the gift I offer hereMight graces from thy favor take,And, seen through Friendship's atmosphere,On softened lines and coloring, ...
Sweetest of all childlike dreamsIn the simple Indian loreStill to me the legend seemsOf the shapes who flit before.Flitting, passing, ...
I did but dream. I never knewWhat charms our sternest season wore.Was never yet the sky so blue,Was never earth ...
God's love and peace be with thee, whereSoe'er this soft autumnal airLifts the dark tresses of thy hair.Whether through city ...
LINES WRITTEN AFTER A SUMMER DAY'S EXCURSION.Fair Nature's priestesses! to whom,In hieroglyph of bud and bloom,Her mysteries are told;Who, wise ...
His laurels fresh from song and lay,Romance, art, science, rich in all,And young of heart, how dare we sayWe keep ...
WITH COPIES OF THE AUTHOR'S WRITINGS.Friend of mine! whose lot was castWith me in the distant past;Where, like shadows flitting ...
O painter of the fruits and flowers,We own wise design,Where these human hands of oursMay share work of Thine!Apart from ...
MY old Welsh neighbor over the wayCrept slowly out in the sun of spring,Pushed from her ears the locks of ...
Talk not of sad November, when a dayOf warm, glad sunshine fills the sky of noon,And a wind, borrowed from ...
Blossom and greenness, making allThe winter birthday tropical,And the plain Quaker parlors gay,Have gone from bracket, stand, and wall;We saw ...
WRITTEN ON A BLANK LEAF OF HIS MEMOIRS.Dear friends, who read the world aright,And in its common forms discernA beauty ...
The land, that, from the rule of kings,In freeing us, itself made free,Our Old World Sister, to us bringsHer sculptured ...
But what avail inadequate words to reachThe innermost of Truth? Who shall essay,Blinded and weak, to point and lead the ...
GEORGE FULLERHaunted of Beauty, like the marvellous youthWho sang Saint Agnes' Eve! How passing fairHer shapes took color in thy ...
Not on Penobscot's wooded bank the spiresOf the sought City rose, nor yet besideThe winding Charles, nor where the daily ...
Weary of jangling noises never stilled,The skeptic's sneer, the bigot's hate, the dinOf clashing texts, the webs of creed men ...
I write my name as one, On sands by waves o'errun Or winter's frosted pane, Traces a record vain. Oblivion's ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories