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The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Personal Poems (search)
philanthropist, who when a young man volunteered his aid in the Greek struggle for independence. “Oh for a knight like Bayard, Without reproach or fear; My light glove on his casque of steel, My love-knot on his spear! Oh for the white plume flo's slumberous current No sun-bowed cascade wakes; No tall, heroic manhood The level dulness breaks. Oh for a knight like Bayard, Without reproach or fear! My light glove on his casque of steel, My love-knot on his spear! “ Then I said, my own heart yet, True, tender, brave, and sweet! Smile not, fair unbeliever! One man, at least, I know, Who might wear the crest of Bayard Or Sidney's plume of snow. Once, when over purple mountains Died away the Grecian sun, And the far Cyllenian ranges Palebe dim; The tears are more of joy than grief That fall for one like him! 1878. Bayard Taylor. I ‘and where now, Bayard, will thy footsteps tend?’ My sister asked our guest one winter's day. Smiling he answered in the Friends' sweet way Co
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Index of first lines (search)
ong the legends sung or said, i. 398. Among the thousands who with hail and cheer, IV. 315. A moony breadth of virgin face, III. 15s3. And have they spurned thy word, IV. 391. Andrew Rykman's dead and gone, II. 258. And where now, Bayard, will thy footsteps tend, IV. 140. A night of wonder! piled afar, IV. 389. Annie and Rhoda, sisters twain, i. 308. A noble life is in thy care, IV. 326. A noteless stream, the Birchbrook runs, i. 407. Another hand is beckoning us,an vaunt, III. 173. Of all the rides since the birth of time, i. 175. Of rights and of wrongs, IV. 406. O friends! with whom my feet have trod, II. 267. Oh, dwarfed and wronged, and stained with ill, II. 294. Oh for a knight like Bayard, IV. 80. Oh, greenly and fair in the lands of the sun, II. 107. Oh, none in all the world before, III. 238. O Holy Father! just and true, III. 54. Oh, praise an' tanks! De Lord he come, III. 231. Oh, thicker, deeper, darker growi