Star-points: Songs of Joy, Faith, and Promise from the Present-day PoetsMrs. Waldo Richards |
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Common terms and phrases
apple beauty bees birds bloom blue breast breath call Whoo-ee candle childher chimes clouds dark dawn dear dream dusk earth EDWIN MARKHAM eternal eyes face fairy faith fire flame flowers glad gleam Glory Road God's gold golden grass green crosses grow hands hear heard heaven hill Hush JEANNE ROBERT FOSTER Jesus JOHN CHIPMAN FARRAR JOHN HALL WHEELOCK Johnny Appleseed laugh laughter light LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE lonely look loveliness lovely things MAXWELL STRUTHERS BURT melody moon morning never Niggah night Nora McHugh orchards peace PETER JACKSON Poet rain ROBERT ROBERT HAVEN SCHAUFFLER rose SARA TEASDALE sea-gulls shadows shining silence silver sing skies smile snow song soul spirit star strong sunset sweet Sweetly they toll tell Thee thou thought trees twilight voice walk William Rose Benét wind wings wonder young
Popular passages
Page 156 - THE trees are in their autumn beauty, The woodland paths are dry, Under the October twilight the water Mirrors a still sky; Upon the brimming water among the stones Are nine-and-fifty swans. The nineteenth autumn has come upon me Since I first made my count; I saw, before I had well finished, All suddenly mount And scatter wheeling in great broken rings Upon their clamorous wings. I have looked upon those brilliant creatures, And now my heart is sore. All's changed...
Page 38 - I beat forever The fens and the sedges. The pledge is still the same — for all disastrous pledges, All hopes resigned ! My soul still flies above me for the quarry it shall find.
Page 31 - Won't you look out of your window, Mrs. Gill?" Quoth the Fairy, nidding, nodding in the garden; "Can't you look out of your window, Mrs. Gill?" Quoth the Fairy, laughing softly in the garden; But the air was still, the cherry boughs were still, And the ivy-tod * 'neath the empty sill, And never from her window looked out Mrs. Gill On the Fairy shrilly mocking in the garden. "What have they done with you, you poor Mrs. Gill?" Quoth the Fairy brightly glancing in the garden; "Where have they hidden...
Page 224 - But — a stirring thrills the air Like to sounds of joyance there That the rages Of the ages Shall be cancelled, and deliverance offered from the darts that were, Consciousness the Will informing, till It fashion all things fair!
Page 211 - Everyone suddenly burst out singing; And I was filled with such delight As prisoned birds must find in freedom Winging wildly across the white Orchards and dark green fields; on; on; and out of sight.
Page 157 - ... time on this shore, The bell-beat of their wings above my head, Trod with a lighter tread. Unwearied still, lover by lover, They paddle in the cold Companionable streams or climb the air; Their hearts have not grown old; Passion or conquest, wander where they will, Attend upon them still. But now they drift on the still water, Mysterious, beautiful; Among what rushes will they build, By what lake's edge or pool Delight men's eyes when I awake some day To find they have flown away? IN MEMORY OF...
Page 125 - We are blind until we see That in the human plan Nothing is worth the making If it does not make the man. Why build these cities glorious, If man unbuilded goes? In vain we build the work unless The builder also grows.
Page 174 - Marianina, Fiametta, Teresina, They are winding stems of roses, one by one, one by one. Let them have a long, long playtime, Lord of Toil, when toil is done, Fill their baby hands with roses, joyous roses of the sun!
Page 2 - Of wounds and sore defeat I made my battle stay; Winged sandals for my feet I wove of my delay; Of weariness and fear, I made my shouting spear; Of loss, and doubt, and dread, And swift oncoming doom I made a helmet for my head And a floating plume. From the shutting mist of death, From the failure of the breath, I made a battle-horn to blow Across the vales of overthrow. O hearken, love, the battle-horn! The triumph clear, the silver scorn ! O hearken where the echoes bring, Down the grey disastrous...
Page 108 - I have a temple I do not Visit, a Heart I have forgot, A self that I have never met, A secret shrine — and yet, and yet This sanctuary of my soul Unwitting I keep white and whole, Unlatched and lit, if Thou should'st care To enter or to tarry there. With parted lips and outstretched hands And listening ears Thy servant stands, -Call Thou early, call Thou late, To Thy great service dedicate.