Snow-bound, Among the Hills, Songs of Labor, and Other Poems: With Biographical Sketch and Explantory NotesHoughton Mifflin Company, 1898 - 104 pages |
Other editions - View all
Snow-Bound: Among the Hills: Songs of Labor: And Other Poems - Scholar's ... John Greenleaf Whittier No preview available - 2015 |
Snow-Bound; Among the Hills; Songs of Labor: And Other Poems - Primary ... John Greenleaf Whittier No preview available - 2014 |
Snow-bound, Among The Hills, Songs Of Labor, And Other Poems: With ... John Greenleaf Whittier No preview available - 2019 |
Common terms and phrases
Agassiz Amesbury Amun anti-slavery barefoot boy Bearcamp beauty bees beneath Biographical bird bless bloom blow breath breezes brook brooklet called Corybantes dreams eyes father feet flowers Friends frock glistening glow golden grace gray green Hampshire hand Haply Haverhill Hawthorne's heard heart hearth heaven hills homestead human Isles Isles of Shoals JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER Lady Hester Stanhope Lake laughing leaves light Line living Longfellow's look Lowell's meaning merry mountain nature Nature's night night is falling o'er Ossipee palimpsest paragraph passage play poem poet poetic political prayer pride prophecy pupils Quaker shadow shone Sir Launfal sister Sketch slavery snow Snow-Bound Songs of Labor spirit story summer sunset sweet Taygetus thee to-day toil told tread trees Uncle Uncle Tom's Cabin vales verse voice wall warm Where'er Whittier wind winter woman wood woodland words
Popular passages
Page 74 - BLESSINGS on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan ! With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes; With thy red lip, redder still Kissed by strawberries on the hill; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace; From my heart I give thee joy, — I was once a barefoot boy ! Prince thou art, — the grown-up man Only is republican.
Page 77 - Cheerily, then, my little man, Live and laugh, as boyhood can! Though the flinty slopes be hard, Stubble-speared the new-mown sward, Every morn shall lead thee through Fresh baptisms of the dew; Every evening from thy feet Shall the cool wind kiss the heat: All too soon these feet must hide In the prison cells of pride, Lose the freedom of the sod, Like a colt's for work be shod, Made to tread the mills of toil, Up and down in ceaseless moil...
Page 3 - ANNOUNCED by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, And veils the farm-house 'at the garden's end. The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
Page 4 - Unwarmed by any sunset light The gray day darkened into night, A night made hoary with the swarm, And whirl-dance of the blinding storm, As zigzag wavering to and fro Crossed and recrossed the winged snow...
Page 29 - Some Truce of God which breaks its strife, The worldling's eyes shall gather dew, Dreaming in throngful city ways Of winter joys his boyhood knew ; And dear and early friends — the few...
Page 4 - The wind blew east; we heard the roar Of Ocean on his wintry shore, And felt the strong pulse throbbing there Beat with low rhythm our inland air.
Page 76 - Oh for festal dainties spread, Like my bowl of milk and bread; Pewter spoon and bowl of wood, On the door-stone, gray and rude! O'er me, like a regal tent, Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent, Purple-curtained, fringed with gold, Looped in many a wind-swung fold; While for music came the play Of the pied frogs' orchestra; And, to light the noisy choir, Lit the fly his lamp of fire.
Page 81 - Trembling, I listened : the summer sun Had the chill of snow; For I knew she was telling the bees of one Gone on the journey we all must go ! Then I said to myself, " My Mary weeps For the dead to-day; Haply her blind old grandsire sleeps The fret and the pain of his age away.
Page 27 - The wars of David and the Jews. At last the floundering carrier bore The village paper to our door. Lo! broadening outward as we read, To warmer zones the horizon spread; In panoramic length unrolled We saw the marvels that it told.
Page 81 - Just the same as a month before, The house and the trees, The barn's brown gable, the vine by the door, Nothing changed but the hives of bees. Before them, under the garden wall, Forward and back, Went drearily singing the chore-girl small, Draping each hive with a shred of black.