At Sundown

At Sundown

by John Greenleaf Whittier


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At Sundown by John Greenleaf Whittier

This collection of literature attempts to compile many of the classic works that have stood the test of time and offer them at a reduced, affordable price, in an attractive volume so that everyone can enjoy them.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781532752261
Publisher: CreateSpace Publishing
Publication date: 04/18/2016
Pages: 44
Product dimensions: 5.98(w) x 9.02(h) x 0.09(d)

Read an Excerpt

THE BIRTHDAY WREATH December 17, 1891. Blossom and greenness, making all The winter birth-day tropical, And the plain Quaker parlors gay, Have gone from bracket, stand, and wall; We saw them fade, and droop, and fall, And laid them tenderly away. White virgin lilies, mignonette, Blown rose, and pink, and violet, A breath of fragrance passing by; Visions of beauty and decay, Colors and shapes that could not stay, The fairest, sweetest, first to die. But still this rustic wreath of mine, Of acorned oak and needled pine, And lighter growths of forest lands, Woven and wound with careful pains, And tender thoughts, and prayers, remains, As when it dropped from love's dear hands. And not unfitly garlanded, Is he, who, country-born and bred, Welcomes the sylvan ring which gives A feeling of old summer days, The wild delight of woodland ways, The glory of the autumn leaves. And, if the flowery meed of song To other bards may well belong, Be his, who from the farm-field spoke A word for Freedom when her need Was not of dulcimer and reed, This Isthmian wreath of pine and oak. THE WIND OF MARCH Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing Under the sky's gray arch ; Smiling, I watch the shaken elm-boughs, knowing It is the wind of March. Between the passing and the coming season, This stormy interlude Gives to our winter-wearied hearts a reason For trustful gratitude. Welcome to waiting ears its harsh forewarning Of light and warmth to come, The longed-for joy of Nature's Easter morning. The earth arisen in bloom! In the loud tumult winter's strength is breaking! I listen to the sound, As to a voice of resurrection, waking To life the dead, cold ground. Between these gusts, to the soft...

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