
John Greenleaf Whittier
Immortal love forever full
Immortal love, forever full,
Forever flowing free,
Forever shared, forever whole,
A never ebbing sea
The Barefoot Boy
Blessings on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan
With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes; With thy red lip, redder still Kissed by strawberries on the hill; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn bri...
What the Birds Said
The birds against the April wind Flew northward, singing as they flew;
They sang, "The land we leave behind Has swords for corn-blades, blood for dew
" "O wild-birds, flying from the South, What saw and heard ye, gazing do...
Ichabod
So fallen
so lost
the light withdrawn Which once he wore
The glory from his gray hairs gone Forevermore
To Avis Keene
ON
NG A
ET OF
ES
Red Riding Hood
On the wide lawn the snow lay deep,
Ridged o’er with many a drifted heap;
The wind that through the pine-trees
The naked elm-boughs tossed and swung;
My Triumph
The autumn-time has come;
On woods that dream of bloom,
And over purpling vines,
The low sun fainter shines
The Yankee Girl
She sings by her wheel at that low cottage door,
Which the long evening shadow is stretching before;
With a music as sweet as the music which
Breathed softly and faintly in the ear of our dreams
The Pipes At Lucknow
An incident of the Sepoy
Pipes of the misty moorlands,
Voice of the glens and hills;
The droning of the torrents,
The Battle Autumn of 1862
The flags of war like storm birds fly, The charging trumpets blow;
Yet rolls no thunder in the sky, No earthquake strives below
And, calm and patient,
Nature keeps Her ancient promises well,
Telling the Bees
Here is the place; right over the hill Runs the path I took;
You can see the gap in the old wall still, And the stepping-stones in the shallow brook
There is the house, with the gate red-barred, And the poplars tall;
And the barn's ...
The Frost Spirit
He comes, - he comes, - the Frost Spirit comes
You may trace his footsteps now On the naked woods and the blasted fields And the brown hill's withered brow
He has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees Where their pleasant green came f...