The Eternal Goodness (John Greenleaf Whittier Poems)
O Friends! with whom my feet have trod The quiet aisles of prayer, Glad witness to your zeal for God ...
O Friends! with whom my feet have trod The quiet aisles of prayer, Glad witness to your zeal for God ...
Outbound, your bark awaits you. Were I one Whose prayer availeth much, my wish should be Your favoring trad-wind and ...
Of A Virginia Slave Mother To Her Daughters Sold Into Southern Bondage Gone, gone, -- sold and gone To the ...
So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn Which once he wore! The glory from his gray hairs gone Forevermore! Revile ...
He comes, - he comes, - the Frost Spirit comes! You may trace his footsteps now On the naked woods ...
Immortal love, forever full, Forever flowing free, Forever shared, forever whole, A never ebbing sea! Our outward lips confess the ...
GIFT from the cold and silent Past! A relic to the present cast, Left on the ever-changing strand Of shifting ...
"Tie stille, barn min! Imorgen kommer Fin, Fa'er din, Og gi'er dich Esbern Snares öine og hjerte at lege med!" ...
Pipes of the misty moorlands, Voice of the glens and hills; The droning of the torrents, The treble of the ...
It is done! Clang of bell and roar of gun Send the tidings up and down. How the belfries rock ...
Oh, greenly and fair in the lands of the sun, The vines of the gourd and the rich melon run, ...
The blast from Freedom's Northern hills, upon its Southern way, Bears greeting to Virginia from Massachusetts Bay: No word of ...
In the outskirts of the village On the river's winding shores Stand the Occidental plane-trees, Stand the ancient sycamores. One ...
Maud Muller on a summer's day Raked the meadow sweet with hay. Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of ...
The harp at Nature's advent strung Has never ceased to play; The song the stars of morning sung Has never ...
I write my name as one, On sands by waves o'errun Or winter's frosted pane, Traces a record vain. Oblivion's ...
Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn, The clustered spires of Frederick stand Green-walled ...
Up the streets of Aberdeen, By the kirk and college green, Rode the Laird of Ury; Close behind him, close ...
Before my drift-wood fire I sit, And see, with every waif I burn, Old dreams and fancies coloring it, And ...
The firmament breaks up. In black eclipse Light after light goes out. One evil star, Luridly glaring through the smoke ...
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