Grandmother's Story and Other Poems. My Hunt After the Captain and Other Papers: With a Biographical Sketch and Introductory Essay and Notes
Houghton Mifflin and Company, 1891 - 93 pages
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Page 68 - Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.
Page 68 - Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings: — Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, As the swift seasons roll! Leave thy low-vaulted past! Let each new temple, nobler than the last, Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, Till thou at length art free, Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!
Page 84 - At half past nine by the meet'n'-house clock,— Just the hour of the Earthquake shock! —What do you think the parson found, When he got up and stared around? The poor old chaise in a heap or mound, As if it had been to the mill and ground! You see, of course, if you're not a dunce, How it went to pieces all at once,— All at once, and nothing first,— Just as bubbles do when they burst.
Page 81 - So the Deacon inquired of the village folk Where he could find the strongest oak, That couldn't be split nor bent nor broke, That was for spokes and floor and sills; He sent for lancewood to make the thills ; The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees, The panels of white-wood, that cuts like cheese, But lasts like iron for things like these; The hubs of logs from the Settler's ellum...
Page 83 - That there wasn'ta chance for one to start, For the wheels were just as strong as the thills, And the floor was just as strong as the sills And the panels just as strong as the floor, And the whipple-tree neither less nor more, And the back-crossbar as strong as the fore. And spring and axle and hub encore. And yet, as a whole, it is past a doubt In another hour it will be worn out!
Page 69 - Little I ask; my wants are few ; I only wish a hut of stone, (A very plain brown stone will do,) That I may call my own ; — And close at hand is such a one, In yonder street that fronts the sun. Plain food is quite enough for me; Three courses are as good as ten; — If Nature can subsist on three, Thank Heaven for three. Amen!
Page 57 - Oh, better that her shattered hulk Should sink beneath the wave; Her thunders shook the mighty deep, And there should be her grave; Nail to the mast her holy flag, Set every threadbare sail, And give her to the god...
Page 48 - But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh.
Page 57 - Her deck once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood And waves were white below, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee; — The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea!