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Abolitionists American Amesbury anti-slavery appeared ballad beauty became better Boston called character close door early edition England eyes face faith farm father feel Fields fire freedom friends Garrison gave give grey hand Haverhill head hear heard heart held hills honour hopes human interest John known lake later less light lines literary lived look Massachusetts meeting Merrimac mother Nature never night occasion once passed perhaps period poems poet poet's poetic poetry present prose published pure Quaker question reader religious remained round side sister slave slavery Society Society of Friends song soul speak spirit stand story strong thee thought town trees true truth turned valley verse Voices volume Whittier wind writes written wrote young
Página 46 - Where the freshest berries grow, Where the groundnut trails its vine, Where the wood-grape's clusters shine. Of the black wasp's cunning way, Mason of his walls of clay, And the architectural plans Of gray hornet artisans ! — For, eschewing books and tasks, Nature answers all he asks ; Hand In hand with her he walks, Face to face with her he talks...
Página 176 - The Night is mother of the Day, The Winter of the Spring, And ever upon old Decay The greenest mosses cling. Behind the cloud the starlight lurks, Through showers the sunbeams fall ; For God, who loveth all his works, Has left his Hope with all ! 4th lit month, 1847.
Página 34 - In moons and tides and weather wise, He read the clouds as prophecies, And foul or fair could well divine, By many an occult hint and sign, Holding the...
Página 173 - Trembling, I listened: the summer sun Had the chill of snow; For I knew she was telling the bees of one Gone on the journey we all must go! Then I said to myself, 'My Mary weeps For the dead to-day: Haply her blind old grandsire sleeps The fret and the pain of his age away.
Página 45 - BLESSINGS on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan ! With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes ; With thy red lip, redder still Kissed by strawberries on the hill ; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace ; From my heart I give thee joy, — I was once a barefoot boy ! Prince thou art, — the grown-up man Only is republican.
Página 144 - It touched the tangled golden curls, And brown eyes full of grieving, Of one who still her steps delayed When all the school were leaving.
Página 46 - For my sport the squirrel played, Plied the snouted mole his spade; For my taste the blackberry cone Purpled over hedge and stone : Laughed the brook for my delight, Through the day, and through the night; Whispering at the garden wall, Talked with me from fall to fall : Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond, Mine the walnut slopes beyond, Mine on bending orchard trees, Apples of Hesperides...
Página 168 - I LOVE the old melodious lays Which softly melt the ages through, The songs of Spenser's golden days, Arcadian Sidney's silvery phrase, Sprinkling our noon of time with freshest morning dew.
Página 50 - And, behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the LORD ; but the LORD was not in the wind : and after the wind an earthquake ; but the LORD was not in the earthquake : and after the earthquake a fire; but the LORD was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice.
Página 145 - He saw her lift her eyes; he felt The soft hand's light caressing, And heard the tremble of her voice, As if a fault confessing. "I'm sorry that I spelt the word: I hate to go above you, Because," — the brown eyes lower fell, — "Because, you see, I love you!