The Works of John Greenleaf Whittier, Том 2

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Стр. 129 - O'er me, like a regal tent, Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent, Purple-curtained, fringed with gold, Looped in many a wind-swung fold; While for music came the play Of the pied frogs' orchestra; And, to light the noisy choir, Lit the fly his lamp of fire.
Стр. 139 - 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.
Стр. 158 - Wrhere, closely mingling, pale and glow The characters of joy and woe ; The monographs of outlived years, Or smile-illumed or dim with tears, Green hills of life that slope to death, And haunts of home, whose vistaed trees Shade off to mournful cypresses With the white amaranths underneath. Even while I look, I can but heed The restless sands...
Стр. 270 - I know not what the future hath Of marvel or surprise. Assured alone that life and death His mercy underlies. And if my heart and flesh are weak To bear an untried pain, The bruised reed He will not break, But strengthen and sustain. No offering of my own I have. Nor works my faith to prove; I can but give the gifts He gave, And plead His love for love. And so beside the Silent Sea I wait the muffled oar; No harm from Him can come to me On ocean or on shore. I know not where His islands lift Their...
Стр. 162 - Parcel and part of all, I keep the festival, Fore-reach the good to be, And share the victory. I feel the earth move sunward, I join the great march onward, And take, by faith, while living, My freehold of thanksgiving.
Стр. 135 - The sun that brief December day Rose cheerless over hills of gray, And, darkly circled, gave at noon A sadder light than waning moon. Slow tracing down the thickening sky Its mute and ominous prophecy, A portent seeming less than threat, It sank from sight before it set. A chill no coat, however stout...
Стр. 346 - I saw also, that there was an ocean of darkness and death ; but an infinite ocean of light and love, which flowed over the ocean of darkness. In that also I saw the infinite love of God, and I had great openIngs.
Стр. 142 - Does not the voice of reason cry, Claim the first right which Nature gave, from the red scourge of bondage fly, Nor deign to live a burdened slave!
Стр. 162 - STILL sits the school-house by the road, A ragged beggar sunning : Around it still the sumachs grow. And blackberry vines are running. Within, the master's desk is seen, Deep scarred by raps official ; The warping floor, the battered seats, The jack-knife's carved initial ; The charcoal...
Стр. 274 - O Lord and Master of us all ! Whate'er our name or sign, We own Thy sway, we hear Thy call, We test our lives by Thine.

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