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amid beauty behold beneath bird blood bloom blossoms blue boughs breath bright brook brow calm clouds cold dark Day of Fire dead death deep deer dwell earth EARTH'S CHILDREN eyes fair flowers forest gaze gentle glad glen glide glittering glorious glory grass grave Greece green GREEN MOUNTAIN BOYS groves hand hear heart heaven hills hour land leaves light look lovers walk maid maiden maize Maquon MARY MAGDALEN mighty mighty heart morning mountain murmur night o'er OCTAVO Oh father pass pleasant poem rill Rizpah rocks round savannas shade shadow shalt shine shore sight silent skies sleep smile soft song sound spirit spring Stockbridge stream summer sweet swell tears tempest thee thine thou art thou dost thou hast trees trom tulip-tree vale voice wandering warriors waters weep wild wind wind-flower wings woods youth
Strona 33 - Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way?
Strona 304 - A wild and many-weaponed throng Hang on thy front, and flank, and rear. Yet nerve thy spirit to the proof, And blench not at thy chosen lot. The timid good may stand aloof, The sage may frown — yet faint thou not. Nor heed the shaft too surely cast, The foul and hissing bolt of scorn ; For with thy side shall dwell, at last, The victory of endurance born. Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again ; Th' eternal years of God are hers ; But Error, wounded, writhes in pain, And dies among his worshippers.
Strona 334 - When he took off the gyves. A bearded man, Armed to the teeth, art thou; one mailed hand Grasps the broad shield, and one the sword; thy brow, Glorious in beauty though it be, is scarred With tokens of old wars; thy massive limbs Are strong with struggling. Power at thee has launched His bolts, and with his lightnings smitten thee. They could not quench the life thou hast from heaven.
Strona 147 - THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS. THE melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead ; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread ; The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay, And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day. Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers...
Strona 26 - Or lose thyself in the continuous woods 'Where rolls the Oregon and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there ; And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep — the dead reign there alone.
Strona 124 - ... breath That from the inmost darkness of the place Comes, scarcely felt ; the barky trunks, the ground, The fresh moist ground, are all instinct with thee. Here is continual worship; — nature, here, In the tranquillity that thou dost love, Enjoys thy presence. Noiselessly, around, From perch to perch, the solitary bird Passes ; and yon clear spring, that, midst its herbs, Wells softly forth and visits the strong roots Of half the mighty forest, tells no tale Of all the good it does.
Strona 134 - God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore Only among the crowd, and under roofs That our frail hands have raised ! Let me, at least, Here, in the shadow of this aged wood, Offer one hymn — thrice happy, if it find Acceptance in his ear. Father, thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns ; thou Didst weave this verdant roof.
Strona 125 - My heart is awed within me when I think Of the great miracle that still goes on, In silence, round me, — the perpetual work Of thy creation, finished, yet renewed Forever.
Strona 168 - There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower, There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree, There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower, And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea. And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray, On the leaping waters and gay young isles ; Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away.
Strona 304 - A friendless warfare ! lingering long Through weary day and weary year ; A wild and many-weaponed throng Hang on thy front and flank and rear. Yet nerve thy spirit to the proof, And blench not at thy chosen lot ; The timid good may stand aloof, The sage may frown, — yet faint thou not ! Nor...