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 ...
Oh, thicker, deeper, darker growing,The solemn vista to the tombMust know henceforth another shadow,And give another cypress room.In love surpassing ...
TOKEN Of friendship true and tried,From one whose fiery heart of youthWith mine has beaten, side by side,For Liberty and ...
ON RECEIVING A BASKET OF SEA-MOSSES.Thanks for thy giftOf ocean flowers,Born where the golden driftOf the slant sunshine fallsDown the ...
At morn I prayed, "I fain would seeHow Three are One, and One is Three;Read the dark riddle unto me."I ...
BEARER of Freedom's holy light,Breaker of Slavery's chain and rod,The foe of all which pains the sight,Or wounds the generous ...
How strange to greet, this frosty morn,In graceful counterfeit of flower,These children of the meadows, bornOf sunshine and of showers!How ...
BESIDE a stricken field I stood;On the torn turf, on grass and wood,Hung heavily the dew of blood.Still in their ...
"O Lady fair, these silks of mine are beautiful and rare,—The richest web of the Indian loom, which beauty's queen might wear;And ...
ON A BLANK LEAF OF "POEMS PRINTED, NOT PUBLISHED."Well thought! who would not rather hearThe songs to Love and Friendship ...
I GIVE thee joy!-I know to thee The dearest spot on earth must beWhere sleeps thy loved one by the summer ...
From Alton Bay to Sandwich Dome,From Mad to Saco river,For patriarchs of the primal woodWe sought with vain endeavor.And then ...
This, the last of Mr. Whittier's poems, was written but a few weeks before his death.Among the thousands who with ...
THE SUMMER warmth has left the sky, The summer songs have died away;And, withered, in the footpaths lie The fallen leaves, but ...
INSCRIBED TO ROBERT C. WATERSTON, OF BOSTON.Fold her, O Father, in Thine arms, And let her henceforth be A messenger of love ...
Tritemius of Herbipolis, one day,While kneeling at the altar's foot to pray,Alone with God, as was his pious choice,Heard from ...
You flung your taunt across the wave;We bore it as became us,Well knowing that the fettered slaveLeft friendly lips no ...
I."And where now, Bayard, will thy footsteps tend?"My sister asked our guest one winter's day.Smiling he answered in the Friends' ...
AT THE UNVEILING OF HIS STATUE.Among their graven shapes to whomThy civic wreaths belong,O city of his love, make roomFor ...
If I have seemed more prompt to censure wrongThan praise the right; if seldom to thine earMy voice hath mingled ...
The Persian's flowery gifts, the shrineOf fruitful Ceres, charm no more;The woven wreaths of oak and pineAre dust along the ...
I WOULD the gift I offer hereMight graces from thy favor take,And, seen through Friendship's atmosphere,On softened lines and coloring, ...
O PEOPLE-CHOSEN! are ye notLikewise the chosen of the Lord,To do His will and speak His word?From the loud thunder-storm ...
Is it the palm, the cocoa-palm,On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm?Or is it a ship in the ...
One morning of the first sad Fall,Poor Adam and his brideSat in the shade of Eden's wall--But on the outer ...
The lowliest born of all the land,He wrung from Fate's reluctant handThe gifts which happier boyhood claims;And, tasting on a ...
John Brown of Ossawatomie spake on his dying day:"I will not have to shrive my soul a priest in Slavery's ...
Oh, well may Essex sit forlornBeside her sea-blown shore;Her well beloved, her noblest born,Is hers in life no more!No lapse ...
Between the gates of birth and deathAn old and saintly pilgrim passed,With look of one who witnessethThe long-sought goal at ...
WITH COPIES OF THE AUTHOR'S WRITINGS.Friend of mine! whose lot was castWith me in the distant past;Where, like shadows flitting ...
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