America's Message

Portada
Will Christopher Wood, Alice Cecilia Cooper, Frederick A. Rice
Ginn, 1925 - 347 páginas
 

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Página 123 - For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see, Saw the Vision of the" world, and all the wonder that would be ; Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails, Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with costly bales ; Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rained a ghastly dew From the nations...
Página xi - O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain, For purple mountain majesties Above the fruited plain! America! America! God shed His grace on thee, And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea!
Página 153 - Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground, The emptiness of ages in his face, And on his back the burden of the world. Who made him dead to rapture and despair, A thing that grieves not and that never hopes, Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox? Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw? Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow?
Página 147 - I HEAR America singing, the varied carols I hear, Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong, The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam, The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work, The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck, The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands, The wood-cutter's song, the ploughboy's on his way in the morning, or...
Página xii - America! America! May God thy gold refine Till all success be nobleness And every gain divine! (363) O beautiful for patriot dream That sees beyond the years Thine alabaster cities gleam Undimmed by human tears ! America!
Página 123 - From the nations' airy navies grappling in the central blue; Far along the world-wide whisper of the south-wind rushing warm, With the standards of the peoples plunging thro...
Página 147 - The wood-cutter's song, the plowboy's on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown, The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing, Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else, The day what belongs to the day — at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly, Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.
Página 273 - THE proudest now is but my peer, The highest not more high ; To-day, of all the weary year, A king of men am I . To-day, alike are great and small, The nameless and the known ; My palace is the people's hall, The ballot-box my throne...
Página 62 - So sudden is it all, and so like a flash of unreal fancy, that but for the flake of white foam left quivering and perishing on a mail-sack after the vision had flashed by and disappeared, we might have doubted whether we had seen any actual horse and man at all, maybe.
Página 11 - But always I am all that you hope to be and have the courage to try for. "I am song and fear, struggle and panic, and ennobling hope. "I am the day's work of the weakest man and the largest dream of the most daring.

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