. Bryant. Poems from the works of William Cullen Bryant. try seaMoaned sadly on New-Englandsstrand, When first the thoughtful and thefree,Our fathers, trod the desert land. 43 LEAFLETS FROM STANDARD AUTHORS. They little thought how pure a light,With years, should gather roundthat day;How love should keep their memoriesbright,How wide a realm their sons shouldsway. Green are their bays; but greener stillShall round their spreading famebe wreathed, And regions, now untrod, shallthrillWith reverence when their namesare breathed. Till where the sun, with softerfires,Looks on the vast Pacifics slee
. Bryant. Poems from the works of William Cullen Bryant. try seaMoaned sadly on New-Englandsstrand, When first the thoughtful and thefree,Our fathers, trod the desert land. 43 LEAFLETS FROM STANDARD AUTHORS. They little thought how pure a light,With years, should gather roundthat day;How love should keep their memoriesbright,How wide a realm their sons shouldsway. Green are their bays; but greener stillShall round their spreading famebe wreathed, And regions, now untrod, shallthrillWith reverence when their namesare breathed. Till where the sun, with softerfires,Looks on the vast Pacifics sleep,The children of the pilgrim siresThis hallowed day like us shallkeep. THOU, GOD, SEEST ME. When this song of praise shall cease,Let thy children, Lord, depart With the blessing of thy peaceAnd thv love in everv heart. Oh, whereer our path may lie,Father, let us not forget That we walk beneath thine eye,That thy care upholds us yet. Blind are we, and weak, and frail; Be thine aid forever near;May the fear to sin prevailOver every other SEVENTY-SIX. What heroes from the woodlandsprung,When, through the fresh-awakenedland,The thrilling cry of freedom rungAnd to the work of warfare strungThe yeomans iron hand! Hills flung the cry to hills around,And ocean - mart replied tomart,And streams, whose springs were yet unfound,Pealed far away the startling soundInto the forests heart. 45 LEAFLETS FROM STANDARD AUTHORS. Then marched the brave from rockysteep, From mountain-river swift and cold;The borders of the stormy deep,The vales where gathered waters sleep, Sent up the strong and bold.— As if the very earth again Grew quick with Gods creatingbreath,And, from the sods of grove and glen,Rose ranks of lion-hearted men To battle to the death. The wife, whose babe first smiledthat day,The fair fond bride of yestereve, And aged sire and matron gray,Saw the loved warriors haste away,And deemed it sin to grieve. Already had the strife begun ; Already blood, on Concords pl
Size: 1415px × 1767px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookidbryantpoemsf, bookyear1884
