Gateway, Volumes 5-6

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Page 13 - AY, tear her tattered ensign down ! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky; Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck once red with heroes...
Page 13 - Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, And waves were white below, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee; — The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea!
Page 28 - I shall bo soon ; Beyond the shining and the shading, Beyond the hoping and the dreading, I shall be soon. Love, rest, and home ! Sweet hope ! Lord, tarry not, but come.
Page 11 - SHOULD you ask me, whence these stories ? Whence these legends and traditions, With the odors of the forest, With the dew and damp of meadows, With the curling smoke of wigwams, With the rushing of great rivers, With their frequent repetitions, And their wild reverberations, As of thunder in the mountains?
Page 19 - A FOOL there was and he made his prayer (Even as you and I !) To a rag and a bone and a hank of hair (We called her the woman who did not care), But the fool he called her his lady fair (Even as you and I...
Page 4 - Progress" the Man with the Muck-rake is set forth as the example of him whose vision is fixed on carnal instead of on spiritual things. Yet he also typifies the man who in this life consistently refuses to see aught that is lofty, and fixes his eyes with solemn intentness only on that which is vile and debasing.
Page 9 - WHERE is the true man's fatherland ? Is it where he by chance is born ? Doth not the yearning spirit scorn In such scant borders to be spanned ? O, yes ' his fatherland must be As the blue heaven wide and free...
Page 26 - BE NOBLE ! and the nobleness that lies In other men, sleeping, but never dead, Will rise in majesty to meet thine own...
Page 57 - Tis summer, the darkies are gay; The corn-top's ripe, and the meadow's in the bloom, While the birds make music all the day. The young folks roll on the little cabin floor, All merry, all happy and bright; By'n by hard times comes a-knocking at the door — Then my old Kentucky home, good-night!
Page 17 - Shall I wasting in Despair, Die because a woman's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care, Cause another's rosy are? Be she fairer than the Day, Or the Flowery Meads in May; If she be not so to me, What care I, how fair she be.

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