The Boys' and Girls' Readers, Book 7

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Houghton Mifflin, 1926
 

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Page 191 - I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying, And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
Page 77 - Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish, Kicking his way down through the air to the ground. So was I once myself a swinger of birches. And so I dream of going back to be. It's when I'm weary of considerations, And life is too much like a pathless wood Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs Broken across it, and one eye is weeping From a twig's having lashed across it open. I'd like to get away from earth awhile And then come back to it and begin over. May no fate willfully misunderstand...
Page 179 - We are all blind until we see That in the human plan Nothing is worth the making if It does not make the man. Why build these cities glorious If man unbuilded goes ? In vain we build the world, unless The builder also grows.
Page 89 - MEMORY My mind lets go a thousand things, Like dates of wars and deaths of kings, And yet recalls the very hour — 'Twas noon by yonder village tower, And on the last blue noon in May — The wind came briskly up this way, Crisping the brook beside the road ; Then, pausing here, set down its load Of pine-scents, and shook listlessly Two petals from that wild-rose tree.
Page 338 - For my own part, of property I have some — of reputation more. That reputation is staked, that property is pledged on the issue of this contest. And although these gray hairs must soon descend into the sepulchre, I would infinitely rather they should descend thither by the hands of the public executioner, than desert, at this crisis, the sacred cause of my country.
Page 146 - And when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in its embrace, and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by the graveside will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad, but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even in death.
Page 21 - WHENE'ER a noble deed is wrought, Whene'er is spoken a noble thought, Our hearts, in glad surprise, To higher levels rise. The tidal wave of deeper souls Into our inmost being rolls, And lifts us unawares Out of all meaner cares.
Page 22 - Lo! in that house of misery, A lady with a lamp I see Pass through the glimmering gloom, And flit from room to room. And slow, as in a dream of bliss, The speechless sufferer turns to kiss Her shadow as it falls Upon the darkening walls.
Page 40 - THE wind's on the wold And the night is a-cold, And Thames runs chill Twixt mead and hill; But kind and dear Is the old house here, And my heart is warm Midst winter's harm. Rest, then, and rest, And think of the best Twixt summer and spring, When all birds sing In the town of the tree, And ye lie in me And scarce dare move, Lest...
Page 87 - ... dry leaves and mosses at my feet. From under dead boughs, for whose loss the pines Moaned ceaseless overhead, the blossoming vines Lifted their glad surprise, While yet the bluebird smoothed in leafless trees His feathers ruffled by the chill sea-breeze, And snow-drifts lingered under April skies. As, pausing, o'er the lonely flower I bent, I thought of lives thus lowly, clogged and pent, Which yet find room, Through care and cumber, coldness and decay, To lend a sweetness to the ungenial day...

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