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The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 3. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Anti-Slavery Poems (search)
ms. out of Canaan hauled Seemed turning on its track again, And like a great swamp-turtle crawled To Canaan village back again, Shook off the mud and settled flat Upon its underpinning; A nigger on its ridge-pole sat, From ear to ear a-grinning. Gray H——d heard oa nights the sound Of rail-cars onward faring; Right over Democratic ground The iron horse came tearing. A flag waved o'er that spectral train, As high as Pittsfield steeple; Its emblem was a broken chain; Its motto: ‘To the people! ’ se never grew! Great drops on the bunch-grass, But not of the dew! A taint in the sweet air For wild bees to shun! A stain that shall never Bleach out in the sun! Back, steed of the prairies! Sweet song-bird, fly back! Wheel hither, bald vulture! Gray wolf, call thy pack! The foul human vultures Have feasted and fled; The wolves of the Border Have crept from the dead. From the hearths of their cabins, The fields of their corn, Unwarned and unweaponed, The victims were torn,— By the whirlwin
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 3. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Songs of Labour and Reform (search)
edom dies Of nations eaten up like flies! Speak, Prince and Kaiser, Priest and Czar! If this be Peace, pray what is War? White Angel of the Lord! unmeet That soil accursed for thy pure feet. Never in Slavery's desert flows The fountain of thy charmed repose; No tyrant's hand thy chaplet weaves Of lilies and of olive-leaves; Not with the wicked shalt thou dwell, Thus saith the Eternal Oracle; Thy home is with the pure and free! Before thee, to prepare thy way, The Baptist Shade of Liberty, Gray, scarred and hairy-robed, must press With bleeding feet the wilderness! Oh that its voice might pierce the ear Of princes, trembling while they hear A cry as of the Hebrew seer: Repent! God's kingdom draweth near 1852. Astraea. “Jove means to settle Astrnea in her seat again, And let down from his golden chain An age of better metal.” Ben Jonson, 1615. O poet rare and old! Thy words are prophecies; Forward the age of gold, The new Saturnian lies. The universal prayer And ho