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Página 316 - And only the Master shall praise us. and only the Master shall blame: And no one shall work for money. and no one shall work for fame. But each for the joy of the working. and each. in his separate star. Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They Are!
Página 181 - WOODMAN, spare that tree! Touch not a single bough; In youth it sheltered me, And I'll protect it now. 'Twas my forefather's hand That placed it near his cot; There, woodman, let it stand, Thy axe shall harm it not! That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown Are spread o'er land and sea, And wouldst thou hew it down ? Woodman, forbear thy stroke! Cut not its earth-bound ties; Oh, spare that aged oak.
Página 29 - Hear the sledges with the bells — Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
Página 58 - Hats off! Along the street there comes A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums; And loyal hearts are beating high : Hats off! The flag is passing by!
Página 390 - Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
Página 181 - When but an idle boy, I sought its grateful shade; In all their gushing joy, Here, too, my sisters played. My mother kissed me here; My father pressed my...
Página 89 - Little drops of water, Little grains of sand Make the mighty ocean, And the pleasant land.
Página 362 - WHENEVER the moon and stars are set, Whenever the wind is high, All night long in the dark and wet, A man goes riding by Late in the night when the fires are out, Why does he gallop and gallop about? Whenever the trees are crying aloud, And ships are tossed at sea,* By, on the highway, low and loud, By at the gallop goes he. By at the gallop he goes, and then By he comes back at the gallop again.
Página 400 - A haze on the far horizon, The infinite, tender sky, The ripe, rich tint of the cornfields, And the wild geese sailing high — And all over upland and lowland The charm of the goldenrod — Some of us call it Autumn, And others call it God.