Songs of Labor, and Other Poems

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Ticknor, Reed, and Fields, 1891 - 127 pages
 

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Page 3 - All day the hoary meteor fell; And, when the second morning shone, We looked upon a world unknown, On nothing we could call our own. Around the glistening wonder bent The blue walls of the firmament, No cloud above, no earth below,— A universe of sky and snow!
Page xii - A hard, dull bitterness of cold, That checked, mid-vein, the circling race Of life-blood in the sharpened face, The coming of the snow-storm told. 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. Meanwhile we did 'our nightly chores, — Brought in the wood from out of doors, Littered the stalls, and from the mows Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows: Heard the horse whinnying for his corn; And,...
Page 1 - 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: And ere the early bedtime came The white drift piled the window-frame, And through the glass the clothes-line posts Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts.
Page 12 - Yet Love will dream, and Faith will trust, (Since He who knows our need is just,) That somehow, somewhere, meet we must.
Page 12 - Ah, brother ! only I and thou Are left of all that circle now, — The dear home faces whereupon That fitful firelight paled and shone.
Page 24 - Whereon she leaned, too frail and weak The hillside flowers she loved to seek, Yet following me where'er I went With dark eyes full of love's content. The birds are glad ; the brier-rose fills 22 The air with sweetness ; all the hills Stretch green to June's unclouded sky ; But still I wait with ear and eye For something gone which should be nigh, A loss in all familiar things, In flower that blooms, and bird that sings. And yet, dear heart ! remembering thee, Am I not richer than of old ? Safe in...
Page 22 - There, too, our elder sister plied Her evening task the stand beside; A full, rich nature, free to trust, Truthful and almost sternly just, Impulsive, earnest, prompt to act, And make her generous thought a fact, Keeping with many a light disguise The secret of self-sacrifice.
Page 26 - Sang songs, and told us what befalls In classic Dartmouth's college halls. " Born the wild Northern hills among, From whence his yeoman father wrung By patient toil subsistence scant, Not competence and yet not want, He early gained the power to pay His cheerful, self-reliant way; Could doff at ease his scholar's gown To peddle wares from town to town...
Page 8 - The buried brooklet could not hear, The music of whose liquid lip Had been to us companionship, And, in our lonely life, had grown To have an almost human tone.
Page 19 - In moons and tides and weather wise, He read the clouds as prophecies, And foul or fair could well divine, By many an occult hint and sign, Holding the cunning-warded keys To all the woodcraft mysteries ; Himself to Nature's heart so near That all her voices in his ear Of beast or bird had meanings clear...

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