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Showing: 71-80 results of 97

The Lone War-Path. A STORY OF SIOUX AND BLACKFOOT. O'er a vast prairie stoops the sultry night;The moon in her broad kingdom wanders white;High hung in space, she swims the murky blue.Low lies yon village of the roaming Sioux—Its smoke-stained lodges, moving toward the west,By conquering Sleep invaded and possessed. All there, save one, own his benign command;Their chief has lately left this little band,And up the glittering path of... more...

THE THUNDERBOLT. There is an artless tradition among the Indians, related by Irving, of a warrior who saw the thunderbolt lying upon the ground, with a beautifully wrought moccasin on each side of it. Thinking he had found a prize, he put on the moccasins, but they bore him away to the land of spirits, whence he never returned. Loud pealed the thunderFrom arsenal high,Bright flashed the lightningAthwart the broad sky;Fast o'er the... more...

KINDNESS. Kindness soothes the bitter anguish, Kindness wipes the falling tear, Kindness cheers us when we languish, Kindness makes a friend more dear. Kindness turns a pain to pleasure, Kindness softens every woe, Kindness is the greatest treasure, That frail man enjoys below. Then how can I, so frail a being, Hope thy kindness to repay, My great weakness plainly seeing, Seeing plainer every day. Oh, I never can repay... more...

Sail on, O Ship of State!Sail on, O Union, strong and great!Humanity with all its fears,With all the hopes of future years,Is hanging breathless on thy fate!We know what Master laid thy keel,What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel,Who made each mast, and sail, and rope,What anvils rang, what hammers beat,In what a forge and what a heatWere shaped the anchors of thy hope!Fear not each sudden sound and shock,’T is of the wave and not the... more...

GLOUCESTER MOORS A mile behind is Gloucester townWhere the fishing fleets put in,A mile ahead the land dips downAnd the woods and farms begin.Here, where the moors stretch freeIn the high blue afternoon,Are the marching sun and talking sea,And the racing winds that wheel and fleeOn the flying heels of June. Jill-o'er-the-ground is purple blue,Blue is the quaker-maid,The wild geranium holds its dewLong in the boulder's shade.Wax-red hangs the... more...


THE QUALITY OF THE WORKS OF EDWARD DOYLE The quality of Edward Doyle's work was appraised by Ella Wheeler Wilcox in the following article by Mrs. Wilcox which appeared in the New York Evening Journal and the San Francisco Examiner, in 1905: Shut your eyes and bind them with a black cloth and try for one hour to see how cheerful you can be. Then imagine yourself deprived for life of the light of day. Perhaps this experiment will make you less... more...

Flag of The Free Flag of the free, our sable siresHave borne thee oft beforeInto hot battles' hell-lit fires,Against the fiercest foe.When first he shook his shaggy mein,And made the welkin ring,Brave Attucks fell upon the Plain,Thy stripes first crimsoning! Thy might and majesty we hurl,Against the bolts of Mars;And from thy ample folds unfurlThy field of flaming stars!Fond hope to nations in distress,Thy starry gleam shall... more...

FIFTY YEARS & OTHER POEMS FIFTY YEARS 1863-1913 O brothers mine, to-day we standWhere half a century sweeps our ken,Since God, through Lincoln's ready hand,Struck off our bonds and made us men. Just fifty years—a winter's day—As runs the history of a race;Yet, as we look back o'er the way,How distant seems our starting place! Look farther back! Three centuries!To where a naked, shivering score,Snatched from their haunts... more...

PART THE FIRST. I     IN the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas,  Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand-Pré  Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward,  Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without number.  Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with labor incessant,  Shut out the turbulent... more...

FOREWORD In presenting a loyal and venerable ex-slave as an artless exponent of freedom, freedom of conduct as well as of speech, the author of this trivial volume is perhaps not composing an individual so truly as individualizing a composite, if the expression will pass. The grizzled brown dispenser of homely admonitions is a figure not unfamiliar to those who have "moved in plantation circles" in the cotton and sugar country, and touched... more...