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ages American ancient banner battle beautiful became beneath birds blood born brave breath calls Cross dark dead death dreams earth eyes face feet field fight flag flame give glory grave green hand head hear heard heart heaven held HENRY hill hold hour human John keep King land leaves light living look Lord never night o'er once passed peace poem poet poetry Quaker rest rise round sang served shining ship shore silent singing smoke song soul sound speak spirit stars stood streets strength strong sweet tell thee thet thing thou thoughts took town trust turned vigil voice walk wave wild wind wings woods writings written wrong wrote York youth
Pagina 18 - When Freedom, from her mountain height, Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there! She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies, And striped its pure, celestial white With streakings of the morning light; Then, from his mansion in the sun, She called her eagle-bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand The symbol of her chosen land!
Pagina 117 - BOWED by the weight of centuries he leans Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground, The emptiness of ages in his face, And on his back the burden of the world. Who made him dead to rapture and despair, A thing that grieves not and that never hopes, Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?
Pagina 60 - This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, Sails the unshadowed main, — The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings, And coral reefs lie bare, Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.
Pagina 12 - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Pagina 37 - OFTEN I think of the beautiful town That is seated by the sea ; Often in thought go up and down The pleasant streets of that dear- old town, And my youth comes back to me. And a verse of a Lapland song Is haunting my memory still : " A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.
Pagina 12 - O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming! And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there...
Pagina 77 - The muffled drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo ; No more on life's parade shall meet That brave and fallen few. On Fame's eternal camping ground Their silent tents are spread, And Glory guards with solemn round The bivouac of the dead.
Pagina 116 - The tolerance and equity of light That gives as freely to the shrinking flower As to the great oak flaring to the wind — To the grave's low hill as to the Matterhorn That shoulders out the sky.
Pagina 38 - Spanish sailors with bearded lips, And the beauty and mystery of the ships, And the magic of the sea. And the voice of that wayward song Is singing and saying still: ' A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.
Pagina 18 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan which moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.