The poetical works

الغلاف الأمامي
Houghton, Mifflin, 1904
 

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الصفحة 212 - The lime-trees pile their solid stacks o' shade An' drows'ly simmer with the bees' sweet trade; In ellu'm-shrouds the flashin' hangbird clings An' for the summer vy'ge his hammock slings; All down the loose-walled lanes in archin' bowers The barb'ry droops its strings o' golden flowers, Whose shrinkin' hearts the school-gals love to try With pins, — they'll worry yourn so, boys, bimeby!
الصفحة 211 - An' gives one leap from April into June : Then all comes crowdin' in ; afore you think, Young oak-leaves mist the side-hill woods with pink ; The catbird in the laylock-bush is loud ; The orchards turn to heaps o' rosy cloud ; Red-cedars blossom tu, though few folks know it, An' look all dipt in sunshine like a poet; The lime-trees pile their solid stacks o' shade An' drows'ly simmer with the bees...
الصفحة 212 - June's bridesman, poet o' the year, Gladness on wings, the bobolink, is here ; Half-hid in tip-top apple-blooms he swings, Or climbs aginst the breeze with quiverin' wings, Or, givin' way to 't in a mock despair, Runs down, a brook o
الصفحة 149 - It is a shameful and unblessed thing to take the scum of people, and wicked condemned men, to be the people with whom you plant; and not only so, but it spoileth the plantation; for they will ever live like rogues, and not fall to work, but be lazy, and do mischief, and spend victuals, and be quickly weary, and then certify over to their country to the discredit of the plantation.
الصفحة 83 - em slips, Huldy sot pale ez ashes, All kin' o' smily roun' the lips An' teary roun
الصفحة 148 - Judge not the preacher; for he is thy judge. If thou mislike him, thou conceiv'st him not. God calleth preaching, folly. Do not grudge To pick out treasures from an earthen pot. The worst speak something good. If all want sense, God takes a text, and preacheth patience.
الصفحة 203 - With the business-consarns o' the rest o' the year, No more 'n they want Sunday to pry an' to peek Into wut they are doin' the rest o' the week. A ginooine statesman should be on his guard, Ef he must hev beliefs, nut to b'lieve 'em tu hard ; For, ez sure ez he does, he '11 be blartin 'em out 'Thout regardin...
الصفحة 258 - Come, Peace ! not like a mourner bowed For honor lost an' dear ones wasted, But proud, to meet a people proud, With eyes thet tell o' triumph tasted ! Come, with han' grippin' on the hilt, An' step thet proves ye Victory's daughter ! Longin' for you, our sperits wilt Like shipwrecked men's on raf's for water.
الصفحة 81 - An' she looked full ez rosy agin Ez the apples she was peelin'. 'T was kin' o' kingdom-come to look On sech a blessed cretur, A dog-rose blushin' to a brook Ain't modester nor sweeter. He was six foot o' man, A i, Clean grit an' human natur'; None couldn't quicker pitch a ton Nor dror a furrer straighter.
الصفحة 129 - t thet moon-rise is the break o' day : (So Mister Seward sticks a three-months' pin Where the war 'd oughto eend, then tries agin ; My gran'ther's rule was safer 'n 't is to crow: Don't never prophesy — onless ye know.) I love to muse there till it kind o' seems Ez ef the world went eddyin' off in dreams ; The northwest wind thet twitches at my baird Blows out o' sturdier days not easy scared, An.

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