The Humbler Poets: A Collection of Newspaper and Periodical Verse, 1870-1885

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A. C. McClurg, 1885 - American poetry - 459 pages

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Page 253 - gainst time or fate, For lo ! my own shall come to me. I stay my haste, I make delays, For what avails this eager pace ? I stand amid the eternal ways. And what is mine shall know my face.
Page 122 - The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle.
Page 306 - By Nebo's lonely mountain, On this side Jordan's wave, In a vale in the land of Moab There lies a lonely grave. And no man knows that sepulchre, And no man saw it e'er, For the angels of God upturned the sod, And laid the dead man there. That was the grandest funeral That ever passed on earth; But no man heard the trampling, Or saw the train go forth — Noiselessly as the daylight Comes back when night is done, And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek Grows into the great sun.
Page 275 - I live for those who love me, For those who know me true, For the heaven that smiles above me, And awaits my spirit too ; For the cause that lacks assistance, For the wrong that needs resistance, For the future in the distance, And the good that I can do.
Page 410 - Wet with the rain, the Blue; Wet with the rain, the Gray. Sadly, but not with upbraiding The generous deed was done ; In the storm of the years that are fading, No braver battle was won ; Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day ; Under the blossoms, the Blue ; Under the garlands, the Gray.
Page 401 - Then fastened the meadow bars again. Under the willows, and over the hill, He patiently followed their sober pace ; The merry whistle for once was still, And something shadowed the sunny face. Only a boy ! and his father had said He never could let his youngest go ; Two already were lying dead Under the feet of the trampling foe.
Page 226 - We are so dull and thankless ; and too slow To catch the sunshine till it slips away. And now it seems surpassing strange to me, That while I wore the badge of motherhood, I did not kiss more oft and tenderly The little child that brought me only good.
Page 307 - That ever breathed a word; And never earth's philosopher Traced, with his golden pen, On the deathless page, truths half so sage As he wrote down for men. And had he not high honor, The...
Page 297 - ALL hail the power of Jesus' name ! Let angels prostrate fall ; Bring forth the royal diadem, And crown him Lord of all.
Page 409 - Under the one, the Blue, Under the other, the Gray. These in the robings of glory, Those in the gloom of defeat, All with the battle-blood gory, In the dusk of eternity meet : Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the...

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