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appearance asked beautiful bell born Boston brought called Cambridge church clock close College comes dead death died dollars door early England entered eyes face father feet four friends gave give half hand head heard heart honor horse hour hundred interest John kind knew known lady land leave letter light live Longfellow look March masts means memory Miss morning mother never night once passed person poet poor present President Queen received rest returned sent seven ship side soon speak stands stone story Street tell thing thou thought thousand tion told took tree walked Washington woman young
Page 58 - And children coming home from school, Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
Page 114 - I remember the sea-fight far away, How it thundered o'er the tide ! And the dead captains, as they lay In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay, Where they in battle died. And the sound of that mournful song Goes through me with a thrill: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.
Page 111 - Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fatal lightning of His terrible swift sword: His truth is marching on.
Page 23 - THE maid who binds her warrior's sash With smile that well her pain dissembles, The while beneath her drooping lash One starry tear-drop hangs and trembles, Though Heaven alone records the tear, And Fame, shall never know her story, Her heart has shed a drop as dear As e'er bedewed the field of glory...
Page 46 - We are coming, Father Abram, three hundred thousand more, From Mississippi's winding stream and from New England's shore ; We leave our ploughs and workshops, our wives and children dear, With hearts too full for utterance, with but a silent tear; We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly before. We are coming, Father Abram, three hundred thousand more!
Page 111 - Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him ! be jubilant, my feet ! Our God is marching on. In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me : As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, While God is marching on.
Page 117 - Shall we sit idly down and say The night hath come; it is no longer day? The night hath not yet come; we are not quite Cut off from...
Page 104 - There 9s rest in his still countenance ! He mocks no grief with idle cheer, Nor wounds with words the mourner's ear ; But ills and woes he may not cure He kindly trains us to endure. Angel of Patience ! sent to calm Our feverish brows with cooling...