The Pennsylvania (John Greenleaf Whittier Poems)
PreludeI sing the Pilgrim of a softer climeAnd milder speech than those brave men's who broughtTo the ice and iron ...
PreludeI sing the Pilgrim of a softer climeAnd milder speech than those brave men's who broughtTo the ice and iron ...
THROUGH the long hall the shuttered windows shedA dubious light on every upturned head;On locks like those of Absalom the ...
One Sabbath day my friend and IAfter the meeting, quietlyPassed from the crowded village lanes,White with dry dust for lack ...
Where the Great Lake's sunny smilesDimple round its hundred isles,And the mountain's granite ledgeCleaves the water like a wedge,Ringed about ...
YES, let them gather! Summon forthThe pledged philanthropy of Earth.From every land, whose hills have heardThe bugle blast of Freedom ...
After the Danish of Christian WinterWhere, over heathen doom-rings and gray stones of the Horg,In its little Christian city stands ...
To-day the plant by Williams setIts summer bloom discloses;The wilding sweethrier of his prayersIs crowned with cultured roses.Once more the ...
They left their home of summer easeBeneath the lowland's sheltering trees,To seek, by ways unknown to all,The promise of the ...
Piero Luca, known of all the townAs the gray porter by the Pitti wallWhere the noon shadows of the gardens ...
AGAINST the wooded hills it stands,Ghost of a dead home, staring throughIts broken lights on wasted landsWhere old-time harvests grew.Unploughed, ...
In the minister's morning sermonHe had told of the primal fall,And how thenceforth the wrath of GodRested on each and ...
THEY sat in silent watchfulnessThe sacred cypress-tree about,And, from beneath old wrinkled brows,Their failing eyes looked out.Gray Age and Sickness ...
I have not felt, o'er seas of sand,The rocking of the desert bark;Nor laved at Hebron's fount my hand,By Hebron's ...
One morning of the first sad Fall,Poor Adam and his brideSat in the shade of Eden's wall--But on the outer ...
To the Memory of the Household It Describes This Poem is Dedicated by the Author "As the Spirit of Darkness ...
Here is the place; right over the hill Runs the path I took; You can see the gap in the ...
Blessings on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan! With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes; ...
Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn, The clustered spires of Frederick stand Green-walled ...
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