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angels beauty beneath bird blessed bloom blow break breath calm child cloud comes dark dead dear death dream earth eyes face fair faith fall Father fear feel feet fire flowers freedom give God's gold grave gray green hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hills holy hope human knew land leaves light lines lips living look Lord lost morning mountain never night o'er once pain passed peace poor praise prayer Quaker rest rise river round seemed shade shadow shame shore side sing slave smile song soul sound spirit stand strong summer sweet tears thee thine things thou thought trees truth turn voice wait wall watch waters waves wild wind wood wrong young
Página 389 - And so beside the Silent Sea I wait the muffled oar ; No harm from Him can come to me On ocean or on shore. I know not where His islands lift Their fronded palms in air ; I only know I cannot drift Beyond His love and care.
Página 532 - ... Toussaint, the most unhappy man of men! Whether the whistling Rustic tend his plough Within thy hearing, or thy head be now Pillowed in some deep dungeon's earless den; O miserable Chieftain! where and when Wilt thou find patience! Yet die not; do thou Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow: Though fallen thyself, never to rise again, Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies; There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget...
Página 237 - Humming-birds and honey-bees; 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 237 - Oh for boyhood's time of June, Crowding years in one brief moon, When all things I heard or saw, Me, their master, waited for. I was rich in flowers and trees, Humming-birds and honey-bees; 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...
Página 275 - Said old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart By the women of Marblehead! Then the wife of the skipper lost at sea Said, "God has touched him! why should we!
Página 328 - In her attic window the staff she set, To show that one heart was loyal yet. Up the street came the rebel tread. Stonewall Jackson riding ahead. Under his slouched hat left and right He glanced; the old flag met his sight. "Halt!
Página 353 - Yet Love will dream, and Faith will trust, (Since He who knows our need is just,) That somehow, somewhere, meet we must.
Página 237 - Knowledge never learned of schools: Of the wild bee's morning chase, Of the wild flower's time and place, Flight of fowl, and habitude Of the tenants of the wood; How the tortoise bears his shell, How the woodchuck digs his cell, And the ground-mole sinks his well; How the robin feeds her young. How the oriole's nest is hung; Where the whitest lilies blow, Where the freshest berries grow.
Página 353 - The house-dog on his paws outspread Laid to the fire his drowsy head, The cat's dark silhouette on the wall A couchant tiger's seemed to fall; And, for the winter fireside meet, Between the andirons...