Browsing named entities in The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 2. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier). You can also browse the collection for White or search for White in all documents.

Your search returned 3 results in 2 document sections:

The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 2. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Poems of Nature (search)
ees, and joyous interlude Of bird-songs in the streamlet-skirting wood,— Heralds and prophecies of sound and sight, Blessed forerunners of the warmth and light, Attendant angels to the house of prayer, With reverent footsteps keeping pace with mine,— Once more, through God's great love, with you I share A morn of resurrection sweet and fair As that which saw, of old, in Palestine, Immortal Love uprising in fresh bloom From the dark night and winter of the tomb! 2d, 5th mo., 1852. Ii. White with its sun-bleached dust, the pathway winds Before me; dust is on the shrunken grass, And on the trees beneath whose boughs I pass; Frail screen against the Hunter of the sky, Who, glaring on me with his lidless eye, While mounting with his dog-star high and higher Ambushed in light intolerable, unbinds The burnished quiver of his shafts of fire. Between me and the hot fields of his South A tremulous glow, as from a furnace-mouth, Glimmers and swims before my dazzled sight, As if the burni
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 2. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Poems Subjective and Reminiscent (search)
n, Content to live where life began; Strong only on his native grounds, The little world of sights and sounds Whose girdle was the parish bounds, Whereof his fondly partial pride The common features magnified, As Surrey hills to mountains grew In White of Selborne's loving view,— He told how teal and loon he shot, And how the eagle's eggs he got, The feats on pond and river done, The prodigies of rod and gun; Till, warming with the tales he told, Forgotten was the outside cold, The bitter wind y countless autumns shed, Had floated down its water. From the gray rocks of Cape Ann, Came a skilled seafaring man, With his dory, to the right place; Over hill and plain he brought her, Where the boatless Bearcamp water Comes winding down from White-Face. Quoth the skipper: “Ere she floats forth, I'm sure my pretty boat's worth, At least, a name as pretty.” On her painted side he wrote it, And the flag that o'er her floated Bore aloft the name of Jettie. On a radiant morn of summer, Elder<