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Adam angel answer beauty beneath birds blessed breath calm child clear close cloud crown curse dark dead death deep dream drop earth eyes face fair fall feel feet flowers Gabriel gaze give glory God's grave grow hand head hear heard heart Heaven hills hold holy hope human keep kiss lady leave lifted light lips live look lost Lucifer morning mother nature never night once pale passing passion pitiful poet pray pure ride rose round scorn Second seemed sense shadow sight silence singing sleep slow smile song soul sound speak Spirit stand stars steed stood strong sweet tears thee thine things thou thought Toll slowly trees true turned vision voice wail walk wild wind wings wood young
Page 245 - Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers, Ere the sorrow comes with years ? They are leaning their young heads against their mothers, — And that cannot stop their tears. The young lambs are bleating in the meadows : The young birds are chirping in the nest ; The young fawns are playing with the shadows ; The young flowers are blowing toward the west — But the young, young children, O my brothers, They are weeping bitterly ! — They are weeping in the playtime of the others, In the country...
Page 247 - With a cerement from the grave. Go out, children, from the mine and from the city, Sing out, children, as the little thrushes do: Pluck your handfuls of the meadow-cowslips pretty, Laugh aloud, to feel your fingers let them through!
Page 249 - O my brothers, To look up to Him and pray ; So the blessed One, who blesseth all the others, Will bless them another day. They answer, " Who is God that He should hear us, While the rushing of the iron wheels is stirred...
Page 250 - How long," they say, " how long, O cruel nation, Will you stand, to move the world on a child's heart, — Stifle down with a mailed heel its palpitation, And tread onward to your throne amid the mart ? Our blood splashes upward, O goldheaper, And your purple shows your path ! But the child's sob in the silence curses deeper Than the strong man in his wrath.
Page 198 - LIFE treads on life, and heart on heart ; We press too close in church and mart To keep a dream or grave apart : And I was 'ware of walking down That same green forest where had gone The poet-pilgrim.
Page 246 - They look up with their pale and sunken faces, And their looks are sad to see, For the man's hoary anguish draws and presses Down the cheeks of infancy; "Your old earth...
Page 85 - But, go to ! thy love Shall chant itself its own beatitudes, After its own life-working. A child's kiss Set on thy sighing lips, shall make thee glad : A poor man served by thee, shall make thee rich ; A sick man, helped by thee, shall make thee strong ; Thou shalt be served thyself by every sense Of service which thou renderest.
Page 239 - I have lost — oh, many a pleasure, Many a hope, and many a power — Studious health, and merry leisure, The first dew on the first flower ! But the first of all my losses was the losing of the bower.