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Page 25 - The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed ; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
Page 26 - Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea ; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free.
Page 26 - There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth ; There was manhood's brow, serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth. What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war ? They sought a faith's pure shrine ! Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod; They have left unstained what there they found — Freedom to worship God.
Page 23 - NOW the Four-way Lodge is opened, now the Hunting Winds are loose — Now the Smokes of Spring go up to clear the brain ; Now the Young Men's hearts are troubled for the whisper of the Trues, Now the Red Gods make their medicine again!
Page 29 - Four sleek, round puppies, with fringy ears, Lay snuggled and fast asleep. , .• Such soft, warm bodies to cuddle, Such queer little hearts to beat, Such swift round tongues to kiss, Such sprawling, cushiony feet; She could feel in her clasping fingers The touch of the satiny skin, And a cold, wet nose exploring The dimples under her chin. •\ Then a sudden ripple of laughter Ran over the parted lips So quick that she could not catch it With her rosy finger-tips. The people whispered " Bless the...
Page 19 - LET ERIN REMEMBER THE DAYS OF OLD. LET Erin-remember the days of old, Ere her faithless sons betrayed her; When Malachi wore the collar of gold, Which he won from her proud invader...
Page 5 - Locomotives. Adapted to every variety of service, and built accurately to gauges and templates after standard designs, or to railroad companies
Page 24 - As a migrant, his world will be from the Atlantic to the Pacific — from the Great Lakes to the Rio Grande. It will be his world, however, only in that the only piece of property that he will own will be his grave.
Page 29 - She sat on the sliding cushion, The dear, wee woman of four; Her feet, in their shiny slippers, Hung dangling over the floor. She meant to be good; she had promised, And so, with her big, brown eyes, She stared at the meeting-house windows And counted the crawling flies. She looked far up at the preacher, But she thought of the honey bees Droning away at the blossoms That whitened the cherry trees.