Under the Willows, and Other PoemsFields, Osgood, 1869 - 286 pages |
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Page 12
... blood with sunshine , and to take The winds into his pulses . Hush ! ' Tis he ! My oriole , my glance of summer fire , Is come at last , and , ever on the watch , Twitches the pack - thread I had lightly wound About the bough to help ...
... blood with sunshine , and to take The winds into his pulses . Hush ! ' Tis he ! My oriole , my glance of summer fire , Is come at last , and , ever on the watch , Twitches the pack - thread I had lightly wound About the bough to help ...
Page 14
... blood Of our New World subduers lingers yet Hereditary feud with trees , they being - ( They and the red - man most ) our fathers ' foes , - Is one of six , a willow Pleiades , The seventh fallen , that lean along the brink Where the ...
... blood Of our New World subduers lingers yet Hereditary feud with trees , they being - ( They and the red - man most ) our fathers ' foes , - Is one of six , a willow Pleiades , The seventh fallen , that lean along the brink Where the ...
Page 25
... blood of kings , Until it edge our thought with hues ideal , - Yet while the world is left , while nature lasts And man the best of nature , there shall be Somewhere contentment for these human hearts , Some freshness , some unused ...
... blood of kings , Until it edge our thought with hues ideal , - Yet while the world is left , while nature lasts And man the best of nature , there shall be Somewhere contentment for these human hearts , Some freshness , some unused ...
Page 52
James Russell Lowell. 52 And feel through all my pulses run The royal blood of breeze and sun . Upon these clm - arched solitudes No hum of neighbor toil intrudes ; The only hammer that I hear Is wielded by the woodpecker , The single ...
James Russell Lowell. 52 And feel through all my pulses run The royal blood of breeze and sun . Upon these clm - arched solitudes No hum of neighbor toil intrudes ; The only hammer that I hear Is wielded by the woodpecker , The single ...
Page 65
... blood to golden fire , Dissolving all my brain in throbbing mist . Suddenly shrank the hand ; suddenly burst A cry that split the torpor of my brain , And as the first sharp thrust of lightning loosens From the heaped cloud its rain ...
... blood to golden fire , Dissolving all my brain in throbbing mist . Suddenly shrank the hand ; suddenly burst A cry that split the torpor of my brain , And as the first sharp thrust of lightning loosens From the heaped cloud its rain ...
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Common terms and phrases
Agamenticus aglets Appledore Atropos Auf wiedersehen beautiful beneath bird blood blue bobolink brain brave breath brow canst CASUISTRY Clotho cloud Dara Dara's dark dead dear deep divine doth dream earth eyes faith fancy Fate feel feet fire flashes Fortunate Isles FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH gleam glow God's gold golden hair hand hast hath headsman waits forever hear heart heaven hermit thrush hope JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL Jotun June king Lachesis life's light lives look mood morn Muse neath never nevermore night o'er once past pearl poet praise pulses roar robin's nest round Roundhead sang seemed shade shadow shape shore silent headsman waits Singing Leaves Skald snow song soul spin stars sunshine sweet tears thee things thou thought thrill Throb toast tree turn VINLAND warm waves whirl Whispering willow wind wings wise wood woodland enchanted youth
Popular passages
Page 256 - I sweep them for a paean, but they wane Again and yet again Into a dirge, and die away, in pain. In these brave ranks I only see the gaps, Thinking of dear ones whom the dumb turf wraps, Dark to the triumph which they died to gain: Fitlier may others greet the living, For me the past is unforgiving; I with uncovered head Salute the sacred dead, Who went, and who return not.
Page 23 - And still fluttered down the snow. I stood and watched by the window The noiseless work of the sky, And the sudden flurries of snow-birds, Like brown leaves whirling by. I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn, Where a little headstone stood; How the flakes were folding it gently, As did robins the babes in the wood. Up spoke our own little Mabel, Saying,
Page 22 - THE snow had begun in the gloaming, And busily all the night Had been heaping field and highway With a silence deep and white. Every pine and fir and hemlock Wore ermine too dear for an earl, And the poorest twig on the elm-tree Was ridged inch deep with pearl.
Page 252 - Nature, they say, doth dote, And cannot make a man Save on some worn-out plan, Repeating us by rote: For him her Old World moulds aside she threw, And, choosing sweet clay from the breast Of the unexhausted West, With stuff untainted shaped a hero new, Wise, steadfast in the strength of God, and true.
Page 246 - ... toil, With the cast mantle she hath left behind her. Many in sad faith sought for her, Many with crossed hands sighed for her; But these, our brothers, fought for her, At life's dear peril wrought for her, So loved her that they died for her...
Page 254 - Great captains, with their guns and drums, Disturb our judgment for the hour, But at last silence comes; These all are gone, and, standing like a tower, Our children shall behold his fame, The kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeing man, Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame, New birth of our new soil, the first American.
Page 24 - The snow that husheth all, Darling, the merciful Father Alone can make it fall ! " Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her ; And she, kissing back, could not know That my kiss was given to her sister, Folded close under deepening snow.
Page 251 - But then to stand beside her, When craven churls deride her. To front a lie in arms and not to yield, This shows, methinks, God's plan And measure of a stalwart man, Limbed like the old heroic breeds. Who stands self-poised on manhood's solid earth, Not forced to frame excuses for his birth, Fed from within with all the strength he needs.
Page 245 - Mother welcomes back Her wisest Scholars, those who understood The deeper teaching of her mystic tome, And offered their fresh lives to make it good: No lore of Greece or Rome, No science peddling with the names of things, Or reading stars to find...
Page 250 - Bursts up in flame ; the war of tongue and pen Learns with what deadly purpose it was fraught, And, helpless in the fiery passion caught, Shakes all the pillared state with shock of men : Some day the soft Ideal that we wooed...