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Page 310 - I pass, like night, from land to land; I have strange power of speech; That moment that his face I see, I know the man that must hear me : To him my tale I teach.
Page 466 - And the kings of the earth, and the great men, and the rich men, and the chief captains, and the mighty men, and every bondman, and every free man, hid themselves in the dens and in the rocks of the mountains; And said to the mountains and rocks, Fall on us, and hide us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb: For the great day of his wrath is come; and who shall be able to stand?
Page 29 - Of the lonely belfry and the dead; For suddenly all his thoughts are bent On a shadowy something far away. Where the river widens to meet the bay, A line of black that bends and floats On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.
Page 28 - LISTEN, my children, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April in Seventy-five: Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year.
Page 30 - It was two by the village clock When he came to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the flock, And the twitter of birds among the trees, And felt the breath of the morning breeze Blowing over the meadows brown.
Page 30 - It was one by the village clock When he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting-house windows...
Page 28 - and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, Just as the moon rose over the bay, Where swinging wide at her moorings lay The Somerset, British man-of-war ; A phantom ship, with each mast and spar Across the moon like a prison bar, And a huge black hulk, that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide.
Page 30 - You know the rest. In the books you have read, How the British Regulars fired and fled, — How the farmers gave them ball for ball, From behind each fence and farmyard wall, Chasing the red-coats down the lane, Then crossing the fields to emerge again Under the trees at the turn of the road, And only pausing to fire and load.
Page 29 - A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing a spark Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet: That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light, The fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed in his flight Kindled the land into flame with its heat.