diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 9583.txt | 2726 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 9583.zip | bin | 0 -> 36039 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
5 files changed, 2742 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/9583.txt b/9583.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d79ac79 --- /dev/null +++ b/9583.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2726 @@ +Project Gutenberg EBook, Occasional Poems, by Whittier +Part 3, From Volume IV., The Works of Whittier: Personal Poems +#28 in our series by John Greenleaf Whittier + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers***** + + + +Title: Occasional Poems + Part 3 From Volume IV., The Works of Whittier: Personal Poems + + +Author: John Greenleaf Whittier + +Release Date: December 2005 [EBook #9583] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on October 18, 2003] + + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, PERSONAL POEMS, PART 3 *** + + + + +This eBook was produced by David Widger + + + + + + OCCASIONAL POEMS + + BY + + JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER + + + + + +CONTENTS: + + EVA + A LAY OF OLD TIME + A SONG OF HARVEST + KENOZA LAKE + FOR AN AUTUMN FESTIVAL + THE QUAKER ALUMNI + OUR RIVER + REVISITED + "THE LAURELS" + JUNE ON THE MERRIMAC + HYMN FOR THE OPENING OF THOMAS STARR KING'S HOUSE OF WORSHIP + HYMN FOR THE HOUSE OF WORSHIP AT GEORGETOWN, ERECTED IN MEMORY + OF A MOTHER + A SPIRITUAL MANIFESTATION + CHICAGO + KINSMAN + THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF LONGWOOD + HYMN FOR THE OPENING OF PLYMOUTH CHURCH, ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA + LEXINGTON + THE LIBRARY + "I WAS A STRANGER, AND YE TOOK ME IN" + CENTENNIAL HYMN + AT SCHOOL-CLOSE + HYMN OF THE CHILDREN + THE LANDMARKS + GARDEN + A GREETING + GODSPEED + WINTER ROSES + THE REUNION + NORUMBEGA HALL + THE BARTHOLDI STATUE + ONE OF THE SIGNERS + + + + +EVA + + Suggested by Mrs. Stowe's tale of Uncle Tom's Cabin, and written + when the characters in the tale were realities by the fireside of + countless American homes. + +Dry the tears for holy Eva, +With the blessed angels leave her; +Of the form so soft and fair +Give to earth the tender care. + +For the golden locks of Eva +Let the sunny south-land give her +Flowery pillow of repose, +Orange-bloom and budding rose. + +In the better home of Eva +Let the shining ones receive her, +With the welcome-voiced psalm, +Harp of gold and waving palm, + +All is light and peace with Eva; +There the darkness cometh never; +Tears are wiped, and fetters fall. +And the Lord is all in all. + +Weep no more for happy Eva, +Wrong and sin no more shall grieve her; +Care and pain and weariness +Lost in love so measureless. + +Gentle Eva, loving Eva, +Child confessor, true believer, +Listener at the Master's knee, +"Suffer such to come to me." + +Oh, for faith like thine, sweet Eva, +Lighting all the solemn river, +And the blessings of the poor +Wafting to the heavenly shore! +1852 + + + +A LAY OF OLD TIME. + + Written for the Essex County Agricultural Fair, and sung at the + banquet at Newburyport, October 2, 1856. + +One morning of the first sad Fall, +Poor Adam and his bride +Sat in the shade of Eden's wall-- +But on the outer side. + +She, blushing in her fig-leaf suit +For the chaste garb of old; +He, sighing o'er his bitter fruit +For Eden's drupes of gold. + +Behind them, smiling in the morn, +Their forfeit garden lay, +Before them, wild with rock and thorn, +The desert stretched away. + +They heard the air above them fanned, +A light step on the sward, +And lo! they saw before them stand +The angel of the Lord! + +"Arise," he said, "why look behind, +When hope is all before, +And patient hand and willing mind, +Your loss may yet restore? + +"I leave with you a spell whose power +Can make the desert glad, +And call around you fruit and flower +As fair as Eden had. + +"I clothe your hands with power to lift +The curse from off your soil; +Your very doom shall seem a gift, +Your loss a gain through Toil. + +"Go, cheerful as yon humming-bees, +To labor as to play." +White glimmering over Eden's trees +The angel passed away. + +The pilgrims of the world went forth +Obedient to the word, +And found where'er they tilled the earth +A garden of the Lord! + +The thorn-tree cast its evil fruit +And blushed with plum and pear, +And seeded grass and trodden root +Grew sweet beneath their care. + +We share our primal parents' fate, +And, in our turn and day, +Look back on Eden's sworded gate +As sad and lost as they. + +But still for us his native skies +The pitying Angel leaves, +And leads through Toil to Paradise +New Adams and new Eves! + + + +A SONG OF HARVEST + + For the Agricultural and Horticultural Exhibition at Amesbury and + Salisbury, September 28, 1858. + +This day, two hundred years ago, +The wild grape by the river's side, +And tasteless groundnut trailing low, +The table of the woods supplied. + +Unknown the apple's red and gold, +The blushing tint of peach and pear; +The mirror of the Powow told +No tale of orchards ripe and rare. + +Wild as the fruits he scorned to till, +These vales the idle Indian trod; +Nor knew the glad, creative skill, +The joy of him who toils with God. + +O Painter of the fruits and flowers! +We thank Thee for thy wise design +Whereby these human hands of ours +In Nature's garden work with Thine. + +And thanks that from our daily need +The joy of simple faith is born; +That he who smites the summer weed, +May trust Thee for the autumn corn. + +Give fools their gold, and knaves their power; +Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall; +Who sows a field, or trains a flower, +Or plants a tree, is more than all. + +For he who blesses most is blest; +And God and man shall own his worth +Who toils to leave as his bequest +An added beauty to the earth. + +And, soon or late, to all that sow, +The time of harvest shall be given; +The flower shall bloom, the fruit shall grow, +If not on earth, at last in heaven. + + + +KENOZA LAKE. + + This beautiful lake in East Haverhill was the "Great Pond" the + writer's boyhood. In 1859 a movement was made for improving its + shores as a public park. At the opening of the park, August 31, + 1859, the poem which gave it the name of Kenoza (in Indian language + signifying Pickerel) was read. + +As Adam did in Paradise, +To-day the primal right we claim +Fair mirror of the woods and skies, +We give to thee a name. + +Lake of the pickerel!--let no more +The echoes answer back, "Great Pond," +But sweet Kenoza, from thy shore +And watching hills beyond, + +Let Indian ghosts, if such there be +Who ply unseen their shadowy lines, +Call back the ancient name to thee, +As with the voice of pines. + +The shores we trod as barefoot boys, +The nutted woods we wandered through, +To friendship, love, and social joys +We consecrate anew. + +Here shall the tender song be sung, +And memory's dirges soft and low, +And wit shall sparkle on the tongue, +And mirth shall overflow, + +Harmless as summer lightning plays +From a low, hidden cloud by night, +A light to set the hills ablaze, +But not a bolt to smite. + +In sunny South and prairied West +Are exiled hearts remembering still, +As bees their hive, as birds their nest, +The homes of Haverhill. + +They join us in our rites to-day; +And, listening, we may hear, erelong, +From inland lake and ocean bay, +The echoes of our song. + +Kenoza! o'er no sweeter lake +Shall morning break or noon-cloud sail,-- +No fairer face than thine shall take +The sunset's golden veil. + +Long be it ere the tide of trade +Shall break with harsh-resounding din +The quiet of thy banks of shade, +And hills that fold thee in. + +Still let thy woodlands hide the hare, +The shy loon sound his trumpet-note, +Wing-weary from his fields of air, +The wild-goose on thee float. + +Thy peace rebuke our feverish stir, +Thy beauty our deforming strife; +Thy woods and waters minister +The healing of their life. + +And sinless Mirth, from care released, +Behold, unawed, thy mirrored sky, +Smiling as smiled on Cana's feast +The Master's loving eye. + +And when the summer day grows dim, +And light mists walk thy mimic sea, +Revive in us the thought of Him +Who walked on Galilee! + + + +FOR AN AUTUMN FESTIVAL + +The Persian's flowery gifts, the shrine +Of fruitful Ceres, charm no more; +The woven wreaths of oak and pine +Are dust along the Isthmian shore. + +But beauty hath its homage still, +And nature holds us still in debt; +And woman's grace and household skill, +And manhood's toil, are honored yet. + +And we, to-day, amidst our flowers +And fruits, have come to own again +The blessings of the summer hours, +The early and the latter rain; + +To see our Father's hand once more +Reverse for us the plenteous horn +Of autumn, filled and running o'er +With fruit, and flower, and golden corn! + +Once more the liberal year laughs out +O'er richer stores than gems or gold; +Once more with harvest-song and shout +Is Nature's bloodless triumph told. + +Our common mother rests and sings, +Like Ruth, among her garnered sheaves; +Her lap is full of goodly things, +Her brow is bright with autumn leaves. + +Oh, favors every year made new! +Oh, gifts with rain and sunshine sent +The bounty overruns our due, +The fulness shames our discontent. + +We shut our eyes, the flowers bloom on; +We murmur, but the corn-ears fill, +We choose the shadow, but the sun +That casts it shines behind us still. + +God gives us with our rugged soil +The power to make it Eden-fair, +And richer fruits to crown our toil +Than summer-wedded islands bear. + +Who murmurs at his lot to-day? +Who scorns his native fruit and bloom? +Or sighs for dainties far away, +Beside the bounteous board of home? + +Thank Heaven, instead, that Freedom's arm +Can change a rocky soil to gold,-- +That brave and generous lives can warm +A clime with northern ices cold. + +And let these altars, wreathed with flowers +And piled with fruits, awake again +Thanksgivings for the golden hours, +The early and the latter rain! +1859 + + + +THE QUAKER ALUMNI. + + Read at the Friends' School Anniversary, Providence, R. I., + 6th mo., 1860. + +From the well-springs of Hudson, the sea-cliffs of Maine, +Grave men, sober matrons, you gather again; +And, with hearts warmer grown as your heads grow more cool, +Play over the old game of going to school. + +All your strifes and vexations, your whims and complaints, +(You were not saints yourselves, if the children of saints!) +All your petty self-seekings and rivalries done, +Round the dear Alma Mater your hearts beat as one! + +How widely soe'er you have strayed from the fold, +Though your "thee" has grown "you," and your drab blue and gold, +To the old friendly speech and the garb's sober form, +Like the heart of Argyle to the tartan, you warm. + +But, the first greetings over, you glance round the hall; +Your hearts call the roll, but they answer not all +Through the turf green above them the dead cannot hear; +Name by name, in the silence, falls sad as a tear! + +In love, let us trust, they were summoned so soon +rom the morning of life, while we toil through its noon; +They were frail like ourselves, they had needs like our own, +And they rest as we rest in God's mercy alone. + +Unchanged by our changes of spirit and frame, +Past, now, and henceforward the Lord is the same; +Though we sink in the darkness, His arms break our fall, +And in death as in life, He is Father of all! + +We are older: our footsteps, so light in the play +Of the far-away school-time, move slower to-day;-- +Here a beard touched with frost, there a bald, shining crown, +And beneath the cap's border gray mingles with brown. + +But faith should be cheerful, and trust should be glad, +And our follies and sins, not our years, make us sad. +Should the heart closer shut as the bonnet grows prim, +And the face grow in length as the hat grows in brim? + +Life is brief, duty grave; but, with rain-folded wings, +Of yesterday's sunshine the grateful heart sings; +And we, of all others, have reason to pay +The tribute of thanks, and rejoice on our way; + +For the counsels that turned from the follies of youth; +For the beauty of patience, the whiteness of truth; +For the wounds of rebuke, when love tempered its edge; +For the household's restraint, and the discipline's hedge; + +For the lessons of kindness vouchsafed to the least +Of the creatures of God, whether human or beast, +Bringing hope to the poor, lending strength to the frail, +In the lanes of the city, the slave-hut, and jail; + +For a womanhood higher and holier, by all +Her knowledge of good, than was Eve ere her fall,-- +Whose task-work of duty moves lightly as play, +Serene as the moonlight and warm as the day; + +And, yet more, for the faith which embraces the whole, +Of the creeds of the ages the life and the soul, +Wherein letter and spirit the same channel run, +And man has not severed what God has made one! + +For a sense of the Goodness revealed everywhere, +As sunshine impartial, and free as the air; +For a trust in humanity, Heathen or Jew, +And a hope for all darkness the Light shineth through. + +Who scoffs at our birthright?--the words of the seers, +And the songs of the bards in the twilight of years, +All the foregleams of wisdom in santon and sage, +In prophet and priest, are our true heritage. + +The Word which the reason of Plato discerned; +The truth, as whose symbol the Mithra-fire burned; +The soul of the world which the Stoic but guessed, +In the Light Universal the Quaker confessed! + +No honors of war to our worthies belong; +Their plain stem of life never flowered into song; +But the fountains they opened still gush by the way, +And the world for their healing is better to-day. + +He who lies where the minster's groined arches curve down +To the tomb-crowded transept of England's renown, +The glorious essayist, by genius enthroned, +Whose pen as a sceptre the Muses all owned,-- + +Who through the world's pantheon walked in his pride, +Setting new statues up, thrusting old ones aside, +And in fiction the pencils of history dipped, +To gild o'er or blacken each saint in his crypt,-- + +How vainly he labored to sully with blame +The white bust of Penn, in the niche of his fame! +Self-will is self-wounding, perversity blind +On himself fell the stain for the Quaker designed! + +For the sake of his true-hearted father before him; +For the sake of the dear Quaker mother that bore him; +For the sake of his gifts, and the works that outlive him, +And his brave words for freedom, we freely forgive him! + +There are those who take note that our numbers are small,-- +New Gibbons who write our decline and our fall; +But the Lord of the seed-field takes care of His own, +And the world shall yet reap what our sowers have sown. + +The last of the sect to his fathers may go, +Leaving only his coat for some Barnum to show; +But the truth will outlive him, and broaden with years, +Till the false dies away, and the wrong disappears. + +Nothing fails of its end. Out of sight sinks the stone, +In the deep sea of time, but the circles sweep on, +Till the low-rippled murmurs along the shores run, +And the dark and dead waters leap glad in the sun. + +Meanwhile shall we learn, in our ease, to forget +To the martyrs of Truth and of Freedom our debt?-- +Hide their words out of sight, like the garb that they wore, +And for Barclay's Apology offer one more? + +Shall we fawn round the priestcraft that glutted the shears, +And festooned the stocks with our grandfathers' ears? +Talk of Woolman's unsoundness? count Penn heterodox? +And take Cotton Mather in place of George Fox? + +Make our preachers war-chaplains? quote Scripture to take +The hunted slave back, for Onesimus' sake? +Go to burning church-candles, and chanting in choir, +And on the old meeting-house stick up a spire? + +No! the old paths we'll keep until better are shown, +Credit good where we find it, abroad or our own; +And while "Lo here" and "Lo there" the multitude call, +Be true to ourselves, and do justice to all. + +The good round about us we need not refuse, +Nor talk of our Zion as if we were Jews; +But why shirk the badge which our fathers have worn, +Or beg the world's pardon for having been born? + +We need not pray over the Pharisee's prayer, +Nor claim that our wisdom is Benjamin's share; +Truth to us and to others is equal and one +Shall we bottle the free air, or hoard up the sun? + +Well know we our birthright may serve but to show +How the meanest of weeds in the richest soil grow; +But we need not disparage the good which we hold; +Though the vessels be earthen, the treasure is gold! + +Enough and too much of the sect and the name. +What matters our label, so truth be our aim? +The creed may be wrong, but the life may be true, +And hearts beat the same under drab coats or blue. + +So the man be a man, let him worship, at will, +In Jerusalem's courts, or on Gerizim's hill. +When she makes up her jewels, what cares yon good town +For the Baptist of Wayland, the Quaker of Brown? + +And this green, favored island, so fresh and seablown, +When she counts up the worthies her annals have known, +Never waits for the pitiful gaugers of sect +To measure her love, and mete out her respect. + +Three shades at this moment seem walking her strand, +Each with head halo-crowned, and with palms in his hand,-- +Wise Berkeley, grave Hopkins, and, smiling serene +On prelate and puritan, Channing is seen. + +One holy name bearing, no longer they need +Credentials of party, and pass-words of creed +The new song they sing hath a threefold accord, +And they own one baptism, one faith, and one Lord! + +But the golden sands run out: occasions like these +Glide swift into shadow, like sails on the seas +While we sport with the mosses and pebbles ashore, +They lessen and fade, and we see them no more. + +Forgive me, dear friends, if my vagrant thoughts seem +Like a school-boy's who idles and plays with his theme. +Forgive the light measure whose changes display +The sunshine and rain of our brief April day. + +There are moments in life when the lip and the eye +Try the question of whether to smile or to cry; +And scenes and reunions that prompt like our own +The tender in feeling, the playful in tone. + +I, who never sat down with the boys and the girls +At the feet of your Slocums, and Cartlands, and Earles,-- +By courtesy only permitted to lay +On your festival's altar my poor gift, to-day,-- + +I would joy in your joy: let me have a friend's part +In the warmth of your welcome of hand and of heart,-- +On your play-ground of boyhood unbend the brow's care, +And shift the old burdens our shoulders must bear. + +Long live the good School! giving out year by year +Recruits to true manhood and womanhood dear +Brave boys, modest maidens, in beauty sent forth, +The living epistles and proof of its worth! + +In and out let the young life as steadily flow +As in broad Narragansett the tides come and go; +And its sons and its daughters in prairie and town +Remember its honor, and guard its renown. + +Not vainly the gift of its founder was made; +Not prayerless the stones of its corner were laid +The blessing of Him whom in secret they sought +Has owned the good work which the fathers have wrought. + +To Him be the glory forever! We bear +To the Lord of the Harvest our wheat with the tare. +What we lack in our work may He find in our will, +And winnow in mercy our good from the ill! + + + +OUR RIVER. + +FOR A SUMMER FESTIVAL AT "THE LAURELS" ON THE MERRIMAC. + + Jean Pierre Brissot, the famous leader of the Girondist party in + the French Revolution, when a young man travelled extensively in + the United States. He visited the valley of the Merrimac, and + speaks in terms of admiration of the view from Moulton's hill + opposite Amesbury. The "Laurel Party" so called, as composed of + ladies and gentlemen in the lower valley of the Merrimac, and + invited friends and guests in other sections of the country. Its + thoroughly enjoyable annual festivals were held in the early summer + on the pine-shaded, laurel-blossomed slopes of the Newbury side of + the river opposite Pleasant Valley in Amesbury. The several poems + called out by these gatherings are here printed in sequence. + +Once more on yonder laurelled height +The summer flowers have budded; +Once more with summer's golden light +The vales of home are flooded; +And once more, by the grace of Him +Of every good the Giver, +We sing upon its wooded rim +The praises of our river, + +Its pines above, its waves below, +The west-wind down it blowing, +As fair as when the young Brissot +Beheld it seaward flowing,-- +And bore its memory o'er the deep, +To soothe a martyr's sadness, +And fresco, hi his troubled sleep, +His prison-walls with gladness. + +We know the world is rich with streams +Renowned in song and story, +Whose music murmurs through our dreams +Of human love and glory +We know that Arno's banks are fair, +And Rhine has castled shadows, +And, poet-tuned, the Doon and Ayr +Go singing down their meadows. + +But while, unpictured and unsung +By painter or by poet, +Our river waits the tuneful tongue +And cunning hand to show it,-- +We only know the fond skies lean +Above it, warm with blessing, +And the sweet soul of our Undine +Awakes to our caressing. + +No fickle sun-god holds the flocks +That graze its shores in keeping; +No icy kiss of Dian mocks +The youth beside it sleeping +Our Christian river loveth most +The beautiful and human; +The heathen streams of Naiads boast, +But ours of man and woman. + +The miner in his cabin hears +The ripple we are hearing; +It whispers soft to homesick ears +Around the settler's clearing +In Sacramento's vales of corn, +Or Santee's bloom of cotton, +Our river by its valley-born +Was never yet forgotten. + +The drum rolls loud, the bugle fills +The summer air with clangor; +The war-storm shakes the solid hills +Beneath its tread of anger; +Young eyes that last year smiled in ours +Now point the rifle's barrel, +And hands then stained with fruits and flowers +Bear redder stains of quarrel. + +But blue skies smile, and flowers bloom on, +And rivers still keep flowing, +The dear God still his rain and sun +On good and ill bestowing. +His pine-trees whisper, "Trust and wait!" +His flowers are prophesying +That all we dread of change or fate +His live is underlying. + +And thou, O Mountain-born!--no more +We ask the wise Allotter +Than for the firmness of thy shore, +The calmness of thy water, +The cheerful lights that overlay, +Thy rugged slopes with beauty, +To match our spirits to our day +And make a joy of duty. +1861. + + + +REVISITED. + +Read at "The Laurels," on the Merrimac, 6th month, 1865. + +The roll of drums and the bugle's wailing +Vex the air of our vales-no more; +The spear is beaten to hooks of pruning, +The share is the sword the soldier wore! + +Sing soft, sing low, our lowland river, +Under thy banks of laurel bloom; +Softly and sweet, as the hour beseemeth, +Sing us the songs of peace and home. + +Let all the tenderer voices of nature +Temper the triumph and chasten mirth, +Full of the infinite love and pity +For fallen martyr and darkened hearth. + +But to Him who gives us beauty for ashes, +And the oil of joy for mourning long, +Let thy hills give thanks, and all thy waters +Break into jubilant waves of song! + +Bring us the airs of hills and forests, +The sweet aroma of birch and pine, +Give us a waft of the north-wind laden +With sweethrier odors and breath of kine! + +Bring us the purple of mountain sunsets, +Shadows of clouds that rake the hills, +The green repose of thy Plymouth meadows, +The gleam and ripple of Campton rills. + +Lead us away in shadow and sunshine, +Slaves of fancy, through all thy miles, +The winding ways of Pemigewasset, +And Winnipesaukee's hundred isles. + +Shatter in sunshine over thy ledges, +Laugh in thy plunges from fall to fall; +Play with thy fringes of elms, and darken +Under the shade of the mountain wall. + +The cradle-song of thy hillside fountains +Here in thy glory and strength repeat; +Give us a taste of thy upland music, +Show us the dance of thy silver feet. + +Into thy dutiful life of uses +Pour the music and weave the flowers; +With the song of birds and bloom of meadows +Lighten and gladden thy heart and ours. + +Sing on! bring down, O lowland river, +The joy of the hills to the waiting sea; +The wealth of the vales, the pomp of mountains, +The breath of the woodlands, bear with thee. + +Here, in the calm of thy seaward, valley, +Mirth and labor shall hold their truce; +Dance of water and mill of grinding, +Both are beauty and both are use. + +Type of the Northland's strength and glory, +Pride and hope of our home and race,-- +Freedom lending to rugged labor +Tints of beauty and lines of grace. + +Once again, O beautiful river, +Hear our greetings and take our thanks; +Hither we come, as Eastern pilgrims +Throng to the Jordan's sacred banks. + +For though by the Master's feet untrodden, +Though never His word has stilled thy waves, +Well for us may thy shores be holy, +With Christian altars and saintly graves. + +And well may we own thy hint and token +Of fairer valleys and streams than these, +Where the rivers of God are full of water, +And full of sap are His healing trees! + + + +"THE LAURELS" + +At the twentieth and last anniversary. + +FROM these wild rocks I look to-day +O'er leagues of dancing waves, and see +The far, low coast-line stretch away +To where our river meets the sea. + +The light wind blowing off the land +Is burdened with old voices; through +Shut eyes I see how lip and hand +The greeting of old days renew. + +O friends whose hearts still keep their prime, +Whose bright example warms and cheers, +Ye teach us how to smile at Time, +And set to music all his years! + +I thank you for sweet summer days, +For pleasant memories lingering long, +For joyful meetings, fond delays, +And ties of friendship woven strong. + +As for the last time, side by side, +You tread the paths familiar grown, +I reach across the severing tide, +And blend my farewells with your own. + +Make room, O river of our home! +For other feet in place of ours, +And in the summers yet to come, +Make glad another Feast of Flowers! + +Hold in thy mirror, calm and deep, +The pleasant pictures thou hast seen; +Forget thy lovers not, but keep +Our memory like thy laurels green. +ISLES of SHOALS, 7th mo., 1870. + + + +JUNE ON THE MERRIMAC. + +O dwellers in the stately towns, +What come ye out to see? +This common earth, this common sky, +This water flowing free? + +As gayly as these kalmia flowers +Your door-yard blossoms spring; +As sweetly as these wild-wood birds +Your caged minstrels sing. + +You find but common bloom and green, +The rippling river's rune, +The beauty which is everywhere +Beneath the skies of June; + +The Hawkswood oaks, the storm-torn plumes +Of old pine-forest kings, +Beneath whose century-woven shade +Deer Island's mistress sings. + +And here are pictured Artichoke, +And Curson's bowery mill; +And Pleasant Valley smiles between +The river and the hill. + +You know full well these banks of bloom, +The upland's wavy line, +And how the sunshine tips with fire +The needles of the pine. + +Yet, like some old remembered psalm, +Or sweet, familiar face, +Not less because of commonness +You love the day and place. + +And not in vain in this soft air +Shall hard-strung nerves relax, +Not all in vain the o'erworn brain +Forego its daily tax. + +The lust of power, the greed of gain +Have all the year their own; +The haunting demons well may let +Our one bright day alone. + +Unheeded let the newsboy call, +Aside the ledger lay +The world will keep its treadmill step +Though we fall out to-day. + +The truants of life's weary school, +Without excuse from thrift +We change for once the gains of toil +For God's unpurchased gift. + +From ceiled rooms, from silent books, +From crowded car and town, +Dear Mother Earth, upon thy lap, +We lay our tired heads down. + +Cool, summer wind, our heated brows; +Blue river, through the green +Of clustering pines, refresh the eyes +Which all too much have seen. + +For us these pleasant woodland ways +Are thronged with memories old, +Have felt the grasp of friendly hands +And heard love's story told. + +A sacred presence overbroods +The earth whereon we meet; +These winding forest-paths are trod +By more than mortal feet. + +Old friends called from us by the voice +Which they alone could hear, +From mystery to mystery, +From life to life, draw near. + +More closely for the sake of them +Each other's hands we press; +Our voices take from them a tone +Of deeper tenderness. + +Our joy is theirs, their trust is ours, +Alike below, above, +Or here or there, about us fold +The arms of one great love! + +We ask to-day no countersign, +No party names we own; +Unlabelled, individual, +We bring ourselves alone. + +What cares the unconventioned wood +For pass-words of the town? +The sound of fashion's shibboleth +The laughing waters drown. + +Here cant forgets his dreary tone, +And care his face forlorn; +The liberal air and sunshine laugh +The bigot's zeal to scorn. + +From manhood's weary shoulder falls +His load of selfish cares; +And woman takes her rights as flowers +And brooks and birds take theirs. + +The license of the happy woods, +The brook's release are ours; +The freedom of the unshamed wind +Among the glad-eyed flowers. + +Yet here no evil thought finds place, +Nor foot profane comes in; +Our grove, like that of Samothrace, +Is set apart from sin. + +We walk on holy ground; above +A sky more holy smiles; +The chant of the beatitudes +Swells down these leafy aisles. + +Thanks to the gracious Providence +That brings us here once more; +For memories of the good behind +And hopes of good before. + +And if, unknown to us, sweet days +Of June like this must come, +Unseen of us these laurels clothe +The river-banks with bloom; + +And these green paths must soon be trod +By other feet than ours, +Full long may annual pilgrims come +To keep the Feast of Flowers; + +The matron be a girl once more, +The bearded man a boy, +And we, in heaven's eternal June, +Be glad for earthly joy! +1876. + + + +HYMN + +FOR THE OPENING OF THOMAS STARR KING'S HOUSE OF WORSHIP, 1864. + + The poetic and patriotic preacher, who had won fame in the East, + went to California in 1860 and became a power on the Pacific coast. + It was not long after the opening of the house of worship built for + him that he died. + +Amidst these glorious works of Thine, +The solemn minarets of the pine, +And awful Shasta's icy shrine,-- + +Where swell Thy hymns from wave and gale, +And organ-thunders never fail, +Behind the cataract's silver veil, + +Our puny walls to Thee we raise, +Our poor reed-music sounds Thy praise: +Forgive, O Lord, our childish ways! + +For, kneeling on these altar-stairs, +We urge Thee not with selfish prayers, +Nor murmur at our daily cares. + +Before Thee, in an evil day, +Our country's bleeding heart we lay, +And dare not ask Thy hand to stay; + +But, through the war-cloud, pray to Thee +For union, but a union free, +With peace that comes of purity! + +That Thou wilt bare Thy arm to, save +And, smiting through this Red Sea wave, +Make broad a pathway for the slave! + +For us, confessing all our need, +We trust nor rite nor word nor deed, +Nor yet the broken staff of creed. + +Assured alone that Thou art good +To each, as to the multitude, +Eternal Love and Fatherhood,-- + +Weak, sinful, blind, to Thee we kneel, +Stretch dumbly forth our hands, and feel +Our weakness is our strong appeal. + +So, by these Western gates of Even +We wait to see with Thy forgiven +The opening Golden Gate of Heaven! + +Suffice it now. In time to be +Shall holier altars rise to Thee,-- +Thy Church our broad humanity + +White flowers of love its walls shall climb, +Soft bells of peace shall ring its chime, +Its days shall all be holy time. + +A sweeter song shall then be heard,-- +The music of the world's accord +Confessing Christ, the Inward Word! + +That song shall swell from shore to shore, +One hope, one faith, one love, restore +The seamless robe that Jesus wore. + + + +HYMN + +FOR THE HOUSE OF WORSHIP AT GEORGETOWN, +ERECTED IN MEMORY OF A MOTHER. + + The giver of the house was the late George Peabody, + of London. + +Thou dwellest not, O Lord of all +In temples which thy children raise; +Our work to thine is mean and small, +And brief to thy eternal days. + +Forgive the weakness and the pride, +If marred thereby our gift may be, +For love, at least, has sanctified +The altar that we rear to thee. + +The heart and not the hand has wrought +From sunken base to tower above +The image of a tender thought, +The memory of a deathless love! + +And though should never sound of speech +Or organ echo from its wall, +Its stones would pious lessons teach, +Its shade in benedictions fall. + +Here should the dove of peace be found, +And blessings and not curses given; +Nor strife profane, nor hatred wound, +The mingled loves of earth and heaven. + +Thou, who didst soothe with dying breath +The dear one watching by Thy cross, +Forgetful of the pains of death +In sorrow for her mighty loss, + +In memory of that tender claim, +O Mother-born, the offering take, +And make it worthy of Thy name, +And bless it for a mother's sake! +1868. + + + +A SPIRITUAL MANIFESTATION. + +Read at the President's Levee, Brown University, +29th 6th month, 1870. + +To-day the plant by Williams set +Its summer bloom discloses; +The wilding sweethrier of his prayers +Is crowned with cultured roses. + +Once more the Island State repeats +The lesson that he taught her, +And binds his pearl of charity +Upon her brown-locked daughter. + +Is 't fancy that he watches still +His Providence plantations? +That still the careful Founder takes +A part on these occasions. + +Methinks I see that reverend form, +Which all of us so well know +He rises up to speak; he jogs +The presidential elbow. + +"Good friends," he says, "you reap a field +I sowed in self-denial, +For toleration had its griefs +And charity its trial. + +"Great grace, as saith Sir Thomas More, +To him must needs be given +Who heareth heresy and leaves +The heretic to Heaven! + +"I hear again the snuffled tones, +I see in dreary vision +Dyspeptic dreamers, spiritual bores, +And prophets with a mission. + +"Each zealot thrust before my eyes +His Scripture-garbled label; +All creeds were shouted in my ears +As with the tongues of Babel. + +"Scourged at one cart-tail, each denied +The hope of every other; +Each martyr shook his branded fist +At the conscience of his brother! + +"How cleft the dreary drone of man. +The shriller pipe of woman, +As Gorton led his saints elect, +Who held all things in common! + +"Their gay robes trailed in ditch and swamp, +And torn by thorn and thicket, +The dancing-girls of Merry Mount +Came dragging to my wicket. + +"Shrill Anabaptists, shorn of ears; +Gray witch-wives, hobbling slowly; +And Antinomians, free of law, +Whose very sins were holy. + +"Hoarse ranters, crazed Fifth Monarchists, +Of stripes and bondage braggarts, +Pale Churchmen, with singed rubrics snatched +From Puritanic fagots. + +"And last, not least, the Quakers came, +With tongues still sore from burning, +The Bay State's dust from off their feet +Before my threshold spurning; + +"A motley host, the Lord's debris, +Faith's odds and ends together; +Well might I shrink from guests with lungs +Tough as their breeches leather + +"If, when the hangman at their heels +Came, rope in hand to catch them, +I took the hunted outcasts in, +I never sent to fetch them. + +"I fed, but spared them not a whit; +I gave to all who walked in, +Not clams and succotash alone, +But stronger meat of doctrine. + +"I proved the prophets false, I pricked +The bubble of perfection, +And clapped upon their inner light +The snuffers of election. + +"And looking backward on my times, +This credit I am taking; +I kept each sectary's dish apart, +No spiritual chowder making. + +"Where now the blending signs of sect +Would puzzle their assorter, +The dry-shod Quaker kept the land, +The Baptist held the water. + +"A common coat now serves for both, +The hat's no more a fixture; +And which was wet and which was dry, +Who knows in such a mixture? + +"Well! He who fashioned Peter's dream +To bless them all is able; +And bird and beast and creeping thing +Make clean upon His table! + +"I walked by my own light; but when +The ways of faith divided, +Was I to force unwilling feet +To tread the path that I did? + +"I touched the garment-hem of truth, +Yet saw not all its splendor; +I knew enough of doubt to feel +For every conscience tender. + +"God left men free of choice, as when +His Eden-trees were planted; +Because they chose amiss, should I +Deny the gift He granted? + +"So, with a common sense of need, +Our common weakness feeling, +I left them with myself to God +And His all-gracious dealing! + +"I kept His plan whose rain and sun +To tare and wheat are given; +And if the ways to hell were free, +I left then free to heaven!" + +Take heart with us, O man of old, +Soul-freedom's brave confessor, +So love of God and man wax strong, +Let sect and creed be lesser. + +The jarring discords of thy day +In ours one hymn are swelling; +The wandering feet, the severed paths, +All seek our Father's dwelling. + +And slowly learns the world the truth +That makes us all thy debtor,-- +That holy life is more than rite, +And spirit more than letter; + +That they who differ pole-wide serve +Perchance the common Master, +And other sheep He hath than they +Who graze one narrow pasture! + +For truth's worst foe is he who claims +To act as God's avenger, +And deems, beyond his sentry-beat, +The crystal walls in danger! + +Who sets for heresy his traps +Of verbal quirk and quibble, +And weeds the garden of the Lord +With Satan's borrowed dibble. + +To-day our hearts like organ keys +One Master's touch are feeling; +The branches of a common Vine +Have only leaves of healing. + +Co-workers, yet from varied fields, +We share this restful nooning; +The Quaker with the Baptist here +Believes in close communing. + +Forgive, dear saint, the playful tone, +Too light for thy deserving; +Thanks for thy generous faith in man, +Thy trust in God unswerving. + +Still echo in the hearts of men +The words that thou hast spoken; +No forge of hell can weld again +The fetters thou hast broken. + +The pilgrim needs a pass no more +From Roman or Genevan; +Thought-free, no ghostly tollman keeps +Henceforth the road to Heaven! + + + +CHICAGO + +The great fire at Chicago was on 8-10 October, 1871. + +Men said at vespers: "All is well!" +In one wild night the city fell; +Fell shrines of prayer and marts of gain +Before the fiery hurricane. + +On threescore spires had sunset shone, +Where ghastly sunrise looked on none. +Men clasped each other's hands, and said +"The City of the West is dead!" + +Brave hearts who fought, in slow retreat, +The fiends of fire from street to street, +Turned, powerless, to the blinding glare, +The dumb defiance of despair. + +A sudden impulse thrilled each wire +That signalled round that sea of fire; +Swift words of cheer, warm heart-throbs came; +In tears of pity died the flame! + +From East, from West, from South and North, +The messages of hope shot forth, +And, underneath the severing wave, +The world, full-handed, reached to save. + +Fair seemed the old; but fairer still +The new, the dreary void shall fill +With dearer homes than those o'erthrown, +For love shall lay each corner-stone. + +Rise, stricken city! from thee throw +The ashen sackcloth of thy woe; +And build, as to Amphion's strain, +To songs of cheer thy walls again! + +How shrivelled in thy hot distress +The primal sin of selfishness! +How instant rose, to take thy part, +The angel in the human heart! + +Ah! not in vain the flames that tossed +Above thy dreadful holocaust; +The Christ again has preached through thee +The Gospel of Humanity! + +Then lift once more thy towers on high, +And fret with spires the western sky, +To tell that God is yet with us, +And love is still miraculous! +1871. + + + +KINSMAN. + + Died at the Island of Panay (Philippine group), + aged nineteen years. + +Where ceaseless Spring her garland twines, +As sweetly shall the loved one rest, +As if beneath the whispering pines +And maple shadows of the West. + +Ye mourn, O hearts of home! for him, +But, haply, mourn ye not alone; +For him shall far-off eyes be dim, +And pity speak in tongues unknown. + +There needs no graven line to give +The story of his blameless youth; +All hearts shall throb intuitive, +And nature guess the simple truth. + +The very meaning of his name +Shall many a tender tribute win; +The stranger own his sacred claim, +And all the world shall be his kin. + +And there, as here, on main and isle, +The dews of holy peace shall fall, +The same sweet heavens above him smile, +And God's dear love be over all +1874. + + + +THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF LONGWOOD. + + Longwood, not far from Bayard Taylor's birthplace in Kennett + + Square, Pennsylvania, was the home of my esteemed friends John + and Hannah Cox, whose golden wedding was celebrated in 1874. + +With fifty years between you and your well-kept wedding vow, +The Golden Age, old friends of mine, is not a fable now. + +And, sweet as has life's vintage been through all your pleasant past, +Still, as at Cana's marriage-feast, the best wine is the last! + +Again before me, with your names, fair Chester's landscape comes, +Its meadows, woods, and ample barns, and quaint, stone-builded homes. + +The smooth-shorn vales, the wheaten slopes, the boscage green and soft, +Of which their poet sings so well from towered Cedarcroft. + +And lo! from all the country-side come neighbors, kith and kin; +From city, hamlet, farm-house old, the wedding guests come in. + +And they who, without scrip or purse, mob-hunted, travel-worn, +In Freedom's age of martyrs came, as victors now return. + +Older and slower, yet the same, files in the long array, +And hearts are light and eyes are glad, though heads are badger-gray. + +The fire-tried men of Thirty-eight who saw with me the fall, +Midst roaring flames and shouting mob, of Pennsylvania Hall; + +And they of Lancaster who turned the cheeks of tyrants pale, +Singing of freedom through the grates of Moyamensing jail! + +And haply with them, all unseen, old comrades, gone before, +Pass, silently as shadows pass, within your open door,-- + +The eagle face of Lindley Coates, brave Garrett's daring zeal, +Christian grace of Pennock, the steadfast heart of Neal. + +Ah me! beyond all power to name, the worthies tried and true, +Grave men, fair women, youth and maid, pass by in hushed review. + +Of varying faiths, a common cause fused all their hearts in one. +God give them now, whate'er their names, the peace of duty done! + +How gladly would I tread again the old-remembered places, +Sit down beside your hearth once more and look in the dear old faces! + +And thank you for the lessons your fifty years are teaching, +For honest lives that louder speak than half our noisy preaching; + +For your steady faith and courage in that dark and evil time, +When the Golden Rule was treason, and to feed the hungry, crime; + +For the poor slave's house of refuge when the hounds were on his track, +And saint and sinner, church and state, joined hands to send him back. + +Blessings upon you!--What you did for each sad, suffering one, +So homeless, faint, and naked, unto our Lord was done! + +Fair fall on Kennett's pleasant vales and Longwood's bowery ways +The mellow sunset of your lives, friends of my early days. + +May many more of quiet years be added to your sum, +And, late at last, in tenderest love, the beckoning angel come. + +Dear hearts are here, dear hearts are there, alike below, above; +Our friends are now in either world, and love is sure of love. +1874. + + + +HYMN + +FOR THE OPENING OF PLYMOUTH CHURCH, ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA. + +All things are Thine: no gift have we, +Lord of all gifts, to offer Thee; +And hence with grateful hearts to-day, +Thy own before Thy feet we lay. + +Thy will was in the builders' thought; +Thy hand unseen amidst us wrought; +Through mortal motive, scheme and plan, +Thy wise eternal purpose ran. + +No lack Thy perfect fulness knew; +For human needs and longings grew +This house of prayer, this home of rest, +In the fair garden of the West. + +In weakness and in want we call +On Thee for whom the heavens are small; +Thy glory is Thy children's good, +Thy joy Thy tender Fatherhood. + +O Father! deign these walls to bless, +Fill with Thy love their emptiness, +And let their door a gateway be +To lead us from ourselves to Thee! +1872. + + + +LEXINGTON + +1775. + +No Berserk thirst of blood had they, +No battle-joy was theirs, who set +Against the alien bayonet +Their homespun breasts in that old day. + +Their feet had trodden peaceful, ways; +They loved not strife, they dreaded pain; +They saw not, what to us is plain, +That God would make man's wrath his praise. + +No seers were they, but simple men; +Its vast results the future hid +The meaning of the work they did +Was strange and dark and doubtful then. + +Swift as their summons came they left +The plough mid-furrow standing still, +The half-ground corn grist in the mill, +The spade in earth, the axe in cleft. + +They went where duty seemed to call, +They scarcely asked the reason why; +They only knew they could but die, +And death was not the worst of all! + +Of man for man the sacrifice, +All that was theirs to give, they gave. +The flowers that blossomed from their grave +Have sown themselves beneath all skies. + +Their death-shot shook the feudal tower, +And shattered slavery's chain as well; +On the sky's dome, as on a bell, +Its echo struck the world's great hour. + +That fateful echo is not dumb +The nations listening to its sound +Wait, from a century's vantage-ground, +The holier triumphs yet to come,-- + +The bridal time of Law and Love, +The gladness of the world's release, +When, war-sick, at the feet of Peace +The hawk shall nestle with the dove!-- + +The golden age of brotherhood +Unknown to other rivalries +Than of the mild humanities, +And gracious interchange of good, + +When closer strand shall lean to strand, +Till meet, beneath saluting flags, +The eagle of our mountain-crags, +The lion of our Motherland! +1875. + + + +THE LIBRARY. + +Sung at the opening of the Haverhill Library, November 11, 1875. + +"Let there be light!" God spake of old, +And over chaos dark and cold, +And through the dead and formless frame +Of nature, life and order came. + +Faint was the light at first that shone +On giant fern and mastodon, +On half-formed plant and beast of prey, +And man as rude and wild as they. + +Age after age, like waves, o'erran +The earth, uplifting brute and man; +And mind, at length, in symbols dark +Its meanings traced on stone and bark. + +On leaf of palm, on sedge-wrought roll, +On plastic clay and leathern scroll, +Man wrote his thoughts; the ages passed, +And to! the Press was found at last! + +Then dead souls woke; the thoughts of men +Whose bones were dust revived again; +The cloister's silence found a tongue, +Old prophets spake, old poets sung. + +And here, to-day, the dead look down, +The kings of mind again we crown; +We hear the voices lost so long, +The sage's word, the sibyl's song. + +Here Greek and Roman find themselves +Alive along these crowded shelves; +And Shakespeare treads again his stage, +And Chaucer paints anew his age. + +As if some Pantheon's marbles broke +Their stony trance, and lived and spoke, +Life thrills along the alcoved hall, +The lords of thought await our call! + + + +"I WAS A STRANGER, AND YE TOOK ME IN." + +An incident in St. Augustine, Florida. + +'Neath skies that winter never knew +The air was full of light and balm, +And warm and soft the Gulf wind blew +Through orange bloom and groves of palm. + +A stranger from the frozen North, +Who sought the fount of health in vain, +Sank homeless on the alien earth, +And breathed the languid air with pain. + +God's angel came! The tender shade +Of pity made her blue eye dim; +Against her woman's breast she laid +The drooping, fainting head of him. + +She bore him to a pleasant room, +Flower-sweet and cool with salt sea air, +And watched beside his bed, for whom +His far-off sisters might not care. + +She fanned his feverish brow and smoothed +Its lines of pain with tenderest touch. +With holy hymn and prayer she soothed +The trembling soul that feared so much. + +Through her the peace that passeth sight +Came to him, as he lapsed away +As one whose troubled dreams of night +Slide slowly into tranquil day. + +The sweetness of the Land of Flowers +Upon his lonely grave she laid +The jasmine dropped its golden showers, +The orange lent its bloom and shade. + +And something whispered in her thought, +More sweet than mortal voices be +"The service thou for him hast wrought +O daughter! hath been done for me." +1875. + + + +CENTENNIAL HYMN. + + Written for the opening of the International Exhibition, + Philadelphia, May 10, 1876. The music for the hymn was written by + John K. Paine, and may be found in The Atlantic Monthly for + June, 1876. + +I. +Our fathers' God! from out whose hand +The centuries fall like grains of sand, +We meet to-day, united, free, +And loyal to our land and Thee, +To thank Thee for the era done, +And trust Thee for the opening one. + +II. +Here, where of old, by Thy design, +The fathers spake that word of Thine +Whose echo is the glad refrain +Of rended bolt and falling chain, +To grace our festal time, from all +The zones of earth our guests we call. + +III. +Be with us while the New World greets +The Old World thronging all its streets, +Unveiling all the triumphs won +By art or toil beneath the sun; +And unto common good ordain +This rivalship of hand and brain. + +IV. +Thou, who hast here in concord furled +The war flags of a gathered world, +Beneath our Western skies fulfil +The Orient's mission of good-will, +And, freighted with love's Golden Fleece, +Send back its Argonauts of peace. + +V. +For art and labor met in truce, +For beauty made the bride of use, +We thank Thee; but, withal, we crave +The austere virtues strong to save, +The honor proof to place or gold, +The manhood never bought nor sold. + +VI. +Oh make Thou us, through centuries long, +In peace secure, in justice strong; +Around our gift of freedom draw +The safeguards of Thy righteous law +And, cast in some diviner mould, +Let the new cycle shame the old! + + + +AT SCHOOL-CLOSE. + +BOWDOIN STREET, BOSTON, 1877. + +The end has come, as come it must +To all things; in these sweet June days +The teacher and the scholar trust +Their parting feet to separate ways. + +They part: but in the years to be +Shall pleasant memories cling to each, +As shells bear inland from the sea +The murmur of the rhythmic beach. + +One knew the joy the sculptor knows +When, plastic to his lightest touch, +His clay-wrought model slowly grows +To that fine grace desired so much. + +So daily grew before her eyes +The living shapes whereon she wrought, +Strong, tender, innocently wise, +The child's heart with the woman's thought. + +And one shall never quite forget +The voice that called from dream and play, +The firm but kindly hand that set +Her feet in learning's pleasant way,-- + +The joy of Undine soul-possessed, +The wakening sense, the strange delight +That swelled the fabled statue's breast +And filled its clouded eyes with sight. + +O Youth and Beauty, loved of all! +Ye pass from girlhood's gate of dreams; +In broader ways your footsteps fall, +Ye test the truth of all that seams. + +Her little realm the teacher leaves, +She breaks her wand of power apart, +While, for your love and trust, she gives +The warm thanks of a grateful heart. + +Hers is the sober summer noon +Contrasted with your morn of spring, +The waning with the waxing moon, +The folded with the outspread wing. + +Across the distance of the years +She sends her God-speed back to you; +She has no thought of doubts or fears +Be but yourselves, be pure, be true, + +And prompt in duty; heed the deep, +Low voice of conscience; through the ill +And discord round about you, keep +Your faith in human nature still. + +Be gentle: unto griefs and needs, +Be pitiful as woman should, +And, spite of all the lies of creeds, +Hold fast the truth that God is good. + +Give and receive; go forth and bless +The world that needs the hand and heart +Of Martha's helpful carefulness +No less than Mary's better part. + +So shall the stream of time flow by +And leave each year a richer good, +And matron loveliness outvie +The nameless charm of maidenhood. + +And, when the world shall link your names +With gracious lives and manners fine, +The teacher shall assert her claims, +And proudly whisper, "These were mine!" + + + +HYMN OF THE CHILDREN. + +Sung at the anniversary of the Children's Mission, Boston, 1878. + +Thine are all the gifts, O God! +Thine the broken bread; +Let the naked feet be shod, +And the starving fed. + +Let Thy children, by Thy grace, +Give as they abound, +Till the poor have breathing-space, +And the lost are found. + +Wiser than the miser's hoards +Is the giver's choice; +Sweeter than the song of birds +Is the thankful voice. + +Welcome smiles on faces sad +As the flowers of spring; +Let the tender hearts be glad +With the joy they bring. + +Happier for their pity's sake +Make their sports and plays, +And from lips of childhood take +Thy perfected praise! + + + +THE LANDMARKS. + + This poem was read at a meeting of citizens of Boston having for + its object the preservation of the Old South Church famous in + Colonial and Revolutionary history. + +I. +THROUGH the streets of Marblehead +Fast the red-winged terror sped; + +Blasting, withering, on it came, +With its hundred tongues of flame, + +Where St. Michael's on its way +Stood like chained Andromeda, + +Waiting on the rock, like her, +Swift doom or deliverer! + +Church that, after sea-moss grew +Over walls no longer new, + +Counted generations five, +Four entombed and one alive; + +Heard the martial thousand tread +Battleward from Marblehead; + +Saw within the rock-walled bay +Treville's liked pennons play, + +And the fisher's dory met +By the barge of Lafayette, + +Telling good news in advance +Of the coming fleet of France! + +Church to reverend memories, dear, +Quaint in desk and chandelier; + +Bell, whose century-rusted tongue +Burials tolled and bridals rung; + +Loft, whose tiny organ kept +Keys that Snetzler's hand had swept; + +Altar, o'er whose tablet old +Sinai's law its thunders rolled! + +Suddenly the sharp cry came +"Look! St. Michael's is aflame!" + +Round the low tower wall the fire +Snake-like wound its coil of ire. + +Sacred in its gray respect +From the jealousies of sect, + +"Save it," seemed the thought of all, +"Save it, though our roof-trees fall!" + +Up the tower the young men sprung; +One, the bravest, outward swung + +By the rope, whose kindling strands +Smoked beneath the holder's hands, + +Smiting down with strokes of power +Burning fragments from the tower. + +Then the gazing crowd beneath +Broke the painful pause of breath; + +Brave men cheered from street to street, +With home's ashes at their feet; + +Houseless women kerchiefs waved: +"Thank the Lord! St. Michael's saved!" + +II. +In the heart of Boston town +Stands the church of old renown, + +From whose walls the impulse went +Which set free a continent; + +From whose pulpit's oracle +Prophecies of freedom fell; + +And whose steeple-rocking din +Rang the nation's birth-day in! + +Standing at this very hour +Perilled like St. Michael's tower, + +Held not in the clasp of flame, +But by mammon's grasping claim. + +Shall it be of Boston said +She is shamed by Marblehead? + +City of our pride! as there, +Hast thou none to do and dare? + +Life was risked for Michael's shrine; +Shall not wealth be staked for thine? + +Woe to thee, when men shall search +Vainly for the Old South Church; + +When from Neck to Boston Stone, +All thy pride of place is gone; + +When from Bay and railroad car, +Stretched before them wide and far, + +Men shall only see a great +Wilderness of brick and slate, + +Every holy spot o'erlaid +By the commonplace of trade! + +City of our love': to thee +Duty is but destiny. + +True to all thy record saith, +Keep with thy traditions faith; + +Ere occasion's overpast, +Hold its flowing forelock fast; + +Honor still the precedents +Of a grand munificence; + +In thy old historic way +Give, as thou didst yesterday + +At the South-land's call, or on +Need's demand from fired St. John. + +Set thy Church's muffled bell +Free the generous deed to tell. + +Let thy loyal hearts rejoice +In the glad, sonorous voice, + +Ringing from the brazen mouth +Of the bell of the Old South,-- + +Ringing clearly, with a will, +"What she was is Boston still!" +1879 + + +GARDEN + +The American Horticultural Society, 1882. + +O painter of the fruits and flowers, +We own wise design, +Where these human hands of ours +May share work of Thine! + +Apart from Thee we plant in vain +The root and sow the seed; +Thy early and Thy later rain, +Thy sun and dew we need. + +Our toil is sweet with thankfulness, +Our burden is our boon; +The curse of Earth's gray morning is +The blessing of its noon. + +Why search the wide world everywhere +For Eden's unknown ground? +That garden of the primal pair +May nevermore be found. + +But, blest by Thee, our patient toil +May right the ancient wrong, +And give to every clime and soil +The beauty lost so long. + +Our homestead flowers and fruited trees +May Eden's orchard shame; +We taste the tempting sweets of these +Like Eve, without her blame. + +And, North and South and East and West, +The pride of every zone, +The fairest, rarest, and the best +May all be made our own. + +Its earliest shrines the young world sought +In hill-groves and in bowers, +The fittest offerings thither brought +Were Thy own fruits and flowers. + +And still with reverent hands we cull +Thy gifts each year renewed; +The good is always beautiful, +The beautiful is good. + + + +A GREETING + + Read at Harriet Beecher Stowe's seventieth anniversary, June 14, + 1882, at a garden party at ex-Governor Claflin's in Newtonville, + Mass. + +Thrice welcome from the Land of Flowers +And golden-fruited orange bowers +To this sweet, green-turfed June of ours! +To her who, in our evil time, +Dragged into light the nation's crime +With strength beyond the strength of men, +And, mightier than their swords, her pen! +To her who world-wide entrance gave +To the log-cabin of the slave; +Made all his wrongs and sorrows known, +And all earth's languages his own,-- +North, South, and East and West, made all +The common air electrical, +Until the o'ercharged bolts of heaven +Blazed down, and every chain was riven! + +Welcome from each and all to her +Whose Wooing of the Minister +Revealed the warm heart of the man +Beneath the creed-bound Puritan, +And taught the kinship of the love +Of man below and God above; +To her whose vigorous pencil-strokes +Sketched into life her Oldtown Folks; +Whose fireside stories, grave or gay, +In quaint Sam Lawson's vagrant way, +With old New England's flavor rife, +Waifs from her rude idyllic life, +Are racy as the legends old +By Chaucer or Boccaccio told; +To her who keeps, through change of place +And time, her native strength and grace, +Alike where warm Sorrento smiles, +Or where, by birchen-shaded isles, +Whose summer winds have shivered o'er +The icy drift of Labrador, +She lifts to light the priceless Pearl +Of Harpswell's angel-beckoned girl! +To her at threescore years and ten +Be tributes of the tongue and pen; +Be honor, praise, and heart-thanks given, +The loves of earth, the hopes of heaven! + +Ah, dearer than the praise that stirs +The air to-day, our love is hers! +She needs no guaranty of fame +Whose own is linked with Freedom's name. +Long ages after ours shall keep +Her memory living while we sleep; +The waves that wash our gray coast lines, +The winds that rock the Southern pines, +Shall sing of her; the unending years +Shall tell her tale in unborn ears. +And when, with sins and follies past, +Are numbered color-hate and caste, +White, black, and red shall own as one +The noblest work by woman done. + + +GODSPEED + + Written on the occasion of a voyage made by my friends + Annie Fields and Sarah Orne Jewett. + +Outbound, your bark awaits you. Were I one +Whose prayer availeth much, my wish should be +Your favoring trade-wind and consenting sea. +By sail or steed was never love outrun, +And, here or there, love follows her in whom +All graces and sweet charities unite, +The old Greek beauty set in holier light; +And her for whom New England's byways bloom, +Who walks among us welcome as the Spring, +Calling up blossoms where her light feet stray. +God keep you both, make beautiful your way, +Comfort, console, and bless; and safely bring, +Ere yet I make upon a vaster sea +The unreturning voyage, my friends to me. +1882. + + + +WINTER ROSES. + + In reply to a flower gift from Mrs. Putnam's school at + Jamaica Plain. + +My garden roses long ago +Have perished from the leaf-strewn walks; +Their pale, fair sisters smile no more +Upon the sweet-brier stalks. + +Gone with the flower-time of my life, +Spring's violets, summer's blooming pride, +And Nature's winter and my own +Stand, flowerless, side by side. + +So might I yesterday have sung; +To-day, in bleak December's noon, +Come sweetest fragrance, shapes, and hues, +The rosy wealth of June! + +Bless the young bands that culled the gift, +And bless the hearts that prompted it; +If undeserved it comes, at least +It seems not all unfit. + +Of old my Quaker ancestors +Had gifts of forty stripes save one; +To-day as many roses crown +The gray head of their son. + +And with them, to my fancy's eye, +The fresh-faced givers smiling come, +And nine and thirty happy girls +Make glad a lonely room. + +They bring the atmosphere of youth; +The light and warmth of long ago +Are in my heart, and on my cheek +The airs of morning blow. + +O buds of girlhood, yet unblown, +And fairer than the gift ye chose, +For you may years like leaves unfold +The heart of Sharon's rose +1883. + + + +THE REUNION + + Read September 10, 1885, to the surviving students of Haverhill + Academy in 1827-1830. + +The gulf of seven and fifty years +We stretch our welcoming hands across; +The distance but a pebble's toss +Between us and our youth appears. + +For in life's school we linger on +The remnant of a once full list; +Conning our lessons, undismissed, +With faces to the setting sun. + +And some have gone the unknown way, +And some await the call to rest; +Who knoweth whether it is best +For those who went or those who stay? + +And yet despite of loss and ill, +If faith and love and hope remain, +Our length of days is not in vain, +And life is well worth living still. + +Still to a gracious Providence +The thanks of grateful hearts are due, +For blessings when our lives were new, +For all the good vouchsafed us since. + +The pain that spared us sorer hurt, +The wish denied, the purpose crossed, +And pleasure's fond occasions lost, +Were mercies to our small desert. + +'T is something that we wander back, +Gray pilgrims, to our ancient ways, +And tender memories of old days +Walk with us by the Merrimac; + +That even in life's afternoon +A sense of youth comes back again, +As through this cool September rain +The still green woodlands dream of June. + +The eyes grown dim to present things +Have keener sight for bygone years, +And sweet and clear, in deafening ears, +The bird that sang at morning sings. + +Dear comrades, scattered wide and far, +Send from their homes their kindly word, +And dearer ones, unseen, unheard, +Smile on us from some heavenly star. + +For life and death with God are one, +Unchanged by seeming change His care +And love are round us here and there; +He breaks no thread His hand has spun. + +Soul touches soul, the muster roll +Of life eternal has no gaps; +And after half a century's lapse +Our school-day ranks are closed and whole. + +Hail and farewell! We go our way; +Where shadows end, we trust in light; +The star that ushers in the night +Is herald also of the day! + + + +NORUMBEGA HALL. + + Norumbega Hall at Wellesley College, named in honor of Eben Norton + Horsford, who has been one of the most munificent patrons of that + noble institution, and who had just published an essay claiming the + discovery of the site of the somewhat mythical city of Norumbega, + was opened with appropriate ceremonies, in April, 1886. The + following sonnet was written for the occasion, and was read by + President Alice E. Freeman, to whom it was addressed. + +Not on Penobscot's wooded bank the spires +Of the sought City rose, nor yet beside +The winding Charles, nor where the daily tide +Of Naumkeag's haven rises and retires, +The vision tarried; but somewhere we knew +The beautiful gates must open to our quest, +Somewhere that marvellous City of the West +Would lift its towers and palace domes in view, +And, to! at last its mystery is made known-- +Its only dwellers maidens fair and young, +Its Princess such as England's Laureate sung; +And safe from capture, save by love alone, +It lends its beauty to the lake's green shore, +And Norumbega is a myth no more. + + + +THE BARTHOLDI STATUE + +1886 + +The land, that, from the rule of kings, +In freeing us, itself made free, +Our Old World Sister, to us brings +Her sculptured Dream of Liberty, + +Unlike the shapes on Egypt's sands +Uplifted by the toil-worn slave, +On Freedom's soil with freemen's hands +We rear the symbol free hands gave. + +O France, the beautiful! to thee +Once more a debt of love we owe +In peace beneath thy Colors Three, +We hail a later Rochambeau! + +Rise, stately Symbol! holding forth +Thy light and hope to all who sit +In chains and darkness! Belt the earth +With watch-fires from thy torch uplit! + +Reveal the primal mandate still +Which Chaos heard and ceased to be, +Trace on mid-air th' Eternal Will +In signs of fire: "Let man be free!" + +Shine far, shine free, a guiding light +To Reason's ways and Virtue's aim, +A lightning-flash the wretch to smite +Who shields his license with thy name! + + + +ONE OF THE SIGNERS. + + Written for the unveiling of the statue of Josiah Bartlett at + Amesbury, Mass., July 4, 1888. Governor Bartlett, who was a native + of the town, was a signer of the Declaration of Independence. + Amesbury or Ambresbury, so called from the "anointed stones" of the + great Druidical temple near it, was the seat of one of the earliest + religious houses in Britain. The tradition that the guilty wife of + King Arthur fled thither for protection forms one of the finest + passages in Tennyson's Idyls of the King. + +O storied vale of Merrimac +Rejoice through all thy shade and shine, +And from his century's sleep call back +A brave and honored son of thine. + +Unveil his effigy between +The living and the dead to-day; +The fathers of the Old Thirteen +Shall witness bear as spirits may. + +Unseen, unheard, his gray compeers +The shades of Lee and Jefferson, +Wise Franklin reverend with his years +And Carroll, lord of Carrollton! + +Be thine henceforth a pride of place +Beyond thy namesake's over-sea, +Where scarce a stone is left to trace +The Holy House of Amesbury. + +A prouder memory lingers round +The birthplace of thy true man here +Than that which haunts the refuge found +By Arthur's mythic Guinevere. + +The plain deal table where he sat +And signed a nation's title-deed +Is dearer now to fame than that +Which bore the scroll of Runnymede. + +Long as, on Freedom's natal morn, +Shall ring the Independence bells, +Give to thy dwellers yet unborn +The lesson which his image tells. + +For in that hour of Destiny, +Which tried the men of bravest stock, +He knew the end alone must be +A free land or a traitor's block. + +Among those picked and chosen men +Than his, who here first drew his breath, +No firmer fingers held the pen +Which wrote for liberty or death. + +Not for their hearths and homes alone, +But for the world their work was done; +On all the winds their thought has flown +Through all the circuit of the sun. + +We trace its flight by broken chains, +By songs of grateful Labor still; +To-day, in all her holy fanes, +It rings the bells of freed Brazil. + +O hills that watched his boyhood's home, +O earth and air that nursed him, give, +In this memorial semblance, room +To him who shall its bronze outlive! + +And thou, O Land he loved, rejoice +That in the countless years to come, +Whenever Freedom needs a voice, +These sculptured lips shall not be dumb! + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, PERSONAL POEMS, PART 3 *** +By John Greenleaf Whittier + +****** This file should be named 9583.txt or 9583.zip ****** + +This eBook was produced by David Widger + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our Web sites at: +https://gutenberg.org or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 + +Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text +files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ +We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): + +eBooks Year Month + + 1 1971 July + 10 1991 January + 100 1994 January + 1000 1997 August + 1500 1998 October + 2000 1999 December + 2500 2000 December + 3000 2001 November + 4000 2001 October/November + 6000 2002 December* + 9000 2003 November* +10000 2004 January* + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, +Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, +Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, +Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, +Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South +Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West +Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +Donations by check or money order may be sent to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information online at: + +https://www.gutenberg.org/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the eBook (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only +when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by +Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be +used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be +they hardware or software or any other related product without +express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* diff --git a/9583.zip b/9583.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d3b2ed3 --- /dev/null +++ b/9583.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0103a86 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #9583 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/9583) |