THE POETICAL WORKS JOHN GREENLEAF WHITIER

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第 173 頁 - All that a sister State should do, all that a free State may, Heart, hand, and purse we proffer, as in our early day; But that one dark loathsome burden ye must stagger with alone, And reap the bitter harvest which ye yourselves have sown! Hold, while ye may, your struggling slaves, and burden God's free air With woman's shriek beneath the lash, and manhood's wild despair; Cling closer to the "cleaving curse" that writes upon your plains The blasting of Almighty wrath against a land of chains.
第 299 頁 - The Night is mother of the Day, The Winter of the Spring, And ever upon old Decay The greenest mosses cling. Behind the cloud the starlight lurks, Through showers the sunbeams fall ; For God, who loveth all his works, Has left his Hope with all ! 4th lit month, 1847.
第 253 頁 - And the lady smiled on the worn old man through the dark and clustering curls Which veiled her brow as she bent to view his silks and glittering pearls ; And she placed their price in the old man's hand, and lightly turned away, But she paused at the wanderer's earnest call, • — "My gentle lady, stay!
第 171 頁 - Wild are the waves which lash the reefs along St. George's bank; Cold on the shore of Labrador the fog lies white and dank; Through storm, and wave, and blinding mist, stout are the hearts which man The fishing-smacks of Marblehead, the sea-boats of Cape Ann. The cold north light and wintry sun glare on their icy forms, Bent grimly o'er their straining lines or wrestling with the storms; Free as the winds they drive before, rough as the waves they roam, They laugh to scorn the slaver's threat against...
第 251 頁 - HE comes — he comes — the Frost Spirit comes ! You may trace his footsteps now On the naked woods and the blasted fields and the brown hill's withered brow. He has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees where their pleasant green came forth, And the winds, which follow wherever he goes, have shaken them down to earth.
第 312 頁 - If, for the age to come, this hour Of trial hath vicarious power, And, blest by Thee, our present pain, Be Liberty's eternal gain, Thy will be done ! Strike, Thou the Master, we Thy keys, The anthem of the destinies ! The minor of Thy loftier strain, Our hearts shall breathe the old refrain, Thy will be done 1 A WORD FOR THE HOUR, THE firmament breaks up.
第 335 頁 - 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. 0 Halt! " — the dust-brown ranks stood fast •Fire!
第 349 頁 - Still green about its ample porch The English ivy twines, Trained back to show in English oak The herald's carven signs. And on her, from the wainscot old, Ancestral faces frown, — •And this has worn the soldier's sword, And that the judge's gown.
第 231 頁 - And what if my feet may not tread where He stood, Nor my ears hear the dashing of Galilee's flood, Nor my eyes see the cross which He bowed him to bear, Nor my knees press Gethsemane's garden of prayer. Yet, Loved of the Father, thy Spirit is near To the meek, and the lowly, and penitent here ; And the voice of thy love is the same even now As at Bethany's tomb or on Olivet's brow.
第 272 頁 - THE REFORMER. ALL grim and soiled and brown with tan, I saw a Strong One, in his wrath, Smiting the godless shrines of man Along his path. The Church beneath her trembling dome Essayed in vain her ghostly charm : Wealth shook within his gilded home With strange alarm. Fraud from his secret chambers fled Before the sunlight bursting in : Sloth drew her pillow o'er her head To drown the din.

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