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And close at hand, the basket stood With nuts from brown October's wood. - Snow-Bound [October] . . . The low green tent Whose curtain never outward swings. - Snow-Bound [Graves] The sun that brief December day Rose cheerless over hills of gray, And, darkly circled, gave at noon A sadder light than waning moon. - Snow-Bound [December] Alas for him who never sees The stars shine through his cypress-trees Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, Nor looks to see the breaking day Across the mournful marbles play! - Snow-Bound (l. 204) [Despair] Beauty is its own excuse. - Songs of Labor (dedication) [Beauty] Simply duty hath no place for fear. - Tent on the Beach--Abraham Davenport (last line) [Duty] As on the Sea of Galilee, The Christ is whispering "Peace." - Tent on the Beach--Kallundborg Church [Peace] Oh, for boyhood's time of June, Crowding years in one brief moon, When all things I heard or saw. Me, their master, waited for. - The Barefoot Boy (st. 3) [Childhood] The garden rose may richly bloom In cultured soil and genial sir, To cloud the light of Fashion's room Or droop in Beauty's midnight hair, In lonelier grace, to sun and dew The sweetbrier on the hilside shows Its single leaf and fainter hue, Untrained and wildly free, yet sill a sister rose! - The Bride of Pennacook (pt. III, The Daughter) [Sweetbrier Roses] But let the good old corn adorn The hills our fathers trod; Still let us, for his golden corn, Send up our thanks to God! - The Corn-Song [Agriculture] Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard! Heap high the golden corn! No richer gist has Autumn poured From out her lavish horn! - The Corn-Song [Agriculture] Let other lands, exulting, glean The apple from the pine, The orange from its glossy green, The cluster from the vine. - The Corn-Song [Fruits] This day we fashion Destiny, our web of Fate we spin. - The Crisis (st. 10) [Fate] Thine to work as well as pray, Clearing thorny wrongs away; Plucking up the weeds of sin, Letting heaven's warm sunshine in. - The Curse of the Charter-Breakers [Work] I know not where His islands lift Their fronded palms in air; I only know I cannot drift Beyond His love and care. - The Eternal Goodness (st. 20) [God] Along the river's summer walk, The withered tufts of asters nod; And trembles on its arid stalk The hoar plume of the golden-rod. And on a ground of sombre fir, And azure-studded juniper, The silver birch its buds of purple shows, And scarlet berries tell where bloomed the sweet wild-rose! - The Last Walk in Autumn [Flowers] Swan flocks of lilies shoreward lying, In sweetness, not in music, dying. - The Maids of Attitash [Water Lilies] What miracle of weird transforming Is this wild work of frost and light, This glimpse of glory infinite? - The Pageant (st. 8) [Winter] Of threads of palm was the carpet spun Whereon he kneels when the day is done, And the foreheads of Islam are bowed as one! To him the palm is a gift divine, Wherein all uses of man combine,-- House and raiment and food and wine! And, in the hour of his great release, His need of the palms shall only cease With the shroud wherein he lieth in peace. "Allah il Allah!" he sings his psalm, On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm; "Thanks to Allah, who gives the palm!" - The Palm-Tree [Palm] What does the good ship bear so well? The cocoa-nut with its stony shell, And the milky sap of its inner cell. - The Palm-Tree [Palm] Green calm below, blue quietness above. - The Pennsylvania Pilgrim (st. 113) [Sky] Beauty for Ashes, and oil of joy! - The Preacher (st. 26), quoting Isaiah, ch. LXI, v. 3 [Joy] Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from East and from West, From North and South, come the pilgrim and guest, When the gray-haired New Englander sees round his board The old broken links of affection restored, When the care-wearied man seeks his mother once more, And the worn matron smiles where the girl smiled before. What moistens the lips and what brightens the eye? What calls back the past, like the rich pumpkin pie? - The Pumpkin [Thanksgiving Day] And the Creole of Cuba laughs out to behold, Through orange leaves shining the broad spheres of gold. - The Pumpkin [Pumpkins] O,--fruit loved of boyhood!--the old days recalling, When wood-grapes were purpling and brown nuts were falling! When wild, ugly faces we carved in its skin, Glaring out through the dark with a candle within! When we laughed round the corn-heap, with hearts all in tune, Our chair a broad pumpkin,--our lantern the moon, Telling tales of the fairy who travelled like steam In a pumpkin-shell coach, with two rats for her team! - The Pumpkin [Pumpkins] Displaying page 6 of 7 for this author: << Prev Next >> 1 2 3 4 5 [6] 7
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