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THE SINGING MAN I He sang above the vineyards of the world. And after him the vines with woven handsClambered and clung, and everywhere unfurled Triumphing green above the barren lands;Till high as gardens grow, he climbed, he stood, Sun-crowned with life and strength, and singing toil,And looked upon his work; and it was good: The corn, the wine, the oil. He sang above the...
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ADDRESS TO THE FLAG [After the Battle of Gettysburg.]Float in the winds of heaven, O tattered Flag!Emblem of hope to all the misruled world:Thy field of golden stars is rent and red—Dyed in the blood of brothers madly spilledBy brother-hands upon the mother-soil.O fatal Upas of the savage Nile,Transplanted hither—rooted—multiplied—Watered with bitter tears and sending forthThy venom-vapors till...
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ANIMAL CHILDREN Sometimes I am so sorry that my papa is a king,It's really most annoying and hurts like everythingTo have the little girls and boys all want to run away,For if I am a Lion prince, I'm a baby, anyway! Some jungle boys, by mischief made quite bold,Once took the baby Tiger, so we're told,And in broad stripes they smeared his coat so fine,And 'round his neck they hung a...
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E. (Ethel) Mars
Robert Lewis Balfour Stevenson, or Robert Louis Stevenson, as the world knows him, was still a boy when he published this rare volume of "A Child's Garden of Verses," although by the calendar he was thirty-five years old. You and I have sighed, no doubt, to be a boy again, but here was one who, while he outgrew his knickerbockers, never outgrew the quick sympathy, the brave heart, the...
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Unknown
Peter Pry’s Puppet ShowPart the SecondHere’s johnny Bull From England come,Who boasts of being a sailor,But yankey tars will let him know,He’ll meet with many a Failure.The Elephant upright and tallDress’d up in Eastern style SirHis efforts here to show himselfI think will make you smile SirHere’s Bruin next from Russia come,Dont let him you affright,Tho in his manner rather roughYou’ll...
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Edward G. Flight
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. HE success of the first edition of this little work, compels its author to say a few words on the issue of a second. "Expressive silence" would now be in him the excessive impudence of not acknowledging, as he respectfully does acknowledge, that success to be greatly ascribable to the eminent artists who have drawn and engraved the illustrations. "A man's...
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Hilda Conkling
FOR YOU, MOTHER I have a dream for you, Mother,Like a soft thick fringe to hide your eyes.I have a surprise for you, Mother,Shaped like a strange butterfly.I have found a way of thinkingTo make you happy;I have made a song and a poemAll twisted into one.If I sing, you listen;If I think, you know.I have a secret from everybody in the world full of peopleBut I cannot always remember how it goes;It is a...
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ATHENS AN ODEEre from under earth again like fire the violet kindle,[Str. 1. Ere the holy buds and hoar on olive-branches bloom,Ere the crescent of the last pale month of winter dwindle,Shrink, and fall as falls a dead leaf on the dead month's tomb,Round the hills whose heights the first-born olive-blossom brightened,Round the city brow-bound once with violets like a bride,Up from under earth...
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THE NUTS OF KNOWLEDGEA cabin on the mountain side hid in a grassy nookWhere door and windows open wide that friendly stars may look.The rabbit shy can patter in, the winds may enter free,Who throng around the mountain throne in living ecstasy.And when the sun sets dimmed in eve and purple fills the air,I think the sacred Hazel Tree is dropping berries thereFrom starry fruitage waved aloft where...
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Sara Teasdale
SPRING NIGHT THE park is filled with night and fog, The veils are drawn about the world, The drowsy lights along the paths Are dim and pearled. Gold and gleaming the empty streets, Gold and gleaming the misty lake, The mirrored lights like sunken swords, Glimmer and shake. Oh, is it not enough to be Here with this beauty over me? My throat...
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