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Browsing named entities in a specific section of The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier). Search the whole document.

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Merrimac (search for this): chapter 7
ed shield, III. 102. Light, warmth, and sprouting greenness, and o'er all, II. 25. Like that ancestral judge who bore his name, IV. 410. Long since, a dream of heaven I had, II. 287. Look on him! through his dungeon grate, III. 321. Low in the east, against a white, cold dawn, IV. 285. Luck to the craft that bears this name of mine, IV. 155. Maddened by Earth's wrong and evil, II. 213. Maiden! with the fair brown tresses, IV. 16. Make, for he loved thee well, our Merrimac, IV. 298. Maud Muller on a summer's day, i. 148. Men! if manhood still ye claim, III. 98. Men of the North-Land! where's the manly spirit, III. 40. Men said at vespers: All is well, IV. 195. 'Midst the men and things which will, II. 182. 'Midst the palace bowers of Hungary, imperial Presburg's pride, IV. 352. Muttering fine upland staple, prime Sea Island finer, IV. 399. My ear is full of summer sounds, II. 213. My garden roses long ago, IV. 219. My heart was
Echard (search for this): chapter 7
195. Sweetest of all childlike dreams, II. 59. Take our hands, James Russell Lowell, IV. 152. Talk not of sad November, when a day, II. 93. Tauler, the preacher, walked, one autumn day, i. 141. Thank God for rest, where none molest, III. 259. Thank God for the token! one lip is still free, III. 47. Thanks for thy gift, IV. 54. The age is dull and mean. Men creep, III. 175. The autumn-time has come, II. 159. The beaver cut his timber, i. 241. The Benedictine Echard, II. 315. The birds against the April wind, III. 248. The blast from Freedom's Northern Hills, upon its Southern way, III. 80. The Brownie sits in the Scotchman's room, i. 25. The burly driver at my side, IV. 56. The cannon's brazen lips are cold, III. 329. The circle is broken, one seat is forsaken, IV. 9. The clouds, which rise with thunder, slake, II. 234. The cross, if rightly borne, shall be, IV. 79. The day is closing dark and cold, i. 117. The day's sharp
Christmas (search for this): chapter 7
outh and sand, III. 148. A dirge is wailing from the Gulf of storm-vexed Mexico, IV. 351. A drear and desolate shore, i. 388. A few brief years have passed away, III. 115. After your pleasant morning travel, IV. 411. Against the sunset's glowing wall, II. 217. Against the wooded hills it stands, i. 413. A gold fringe on the purpling hem, II. 73. All day the darkness and the cold, II. 21. All grim and soiled and brown with tan, III. 314. All hail! the bells of Christmas rang, II. 331. All night above their rocky bed, III. 187. All ready? cried the captain, III. 20. All things are Thine: no gift have we, IV. 200. Along Crane River's sunny slopes, i. 360. Along the aisle where prayer was made, II. 289. Along the roadside, like the flowers of gold, i. 260. Amidst these glorious works of Thine, IV. 186. Amidst Thuringia's wooded hills she dwelt, i. 409. Amidst thy sacred effigies, III. 266. Among their graven shapes to whom, IV.
Bradley (search for this): chapter 7
your dead! The midnight street, i. 19. Build at Kallundborg by the sea, IV. 265. But what avail inadequate words to reach, II. 329. By fire and cloud, across the desert sand, III. 348. Call him not heretic whose works attest, II. 326. Calm on the breast of Loch Maree, i. 124. Calmly the night came down, IV. 341. Champion of those who groan beneath, III. 9. Climbing a path which leads back never more, IV. 302. Close beside the meeting waters, IV. 330. Conductor Bradley, (always may his name, i. 359. Dark the halls, and cold the feast, i. 75. Dead Petra in her hill-tomb sleeps, II. 247. Dear Anna, when I brought her veil, IV. 331. Dear friends, who read the world aright, IV. 66. Dear Sister! while the wise and sage, II. 110. Dream not, O Soul, that easy is the task, II. 328. Dry the tears for holy Eva, IV. 157. Earthly arms no more uphold him, IV. 319. Ere down yon blue Carpathian hills, i. 62. Fair islands of the sunny sea!
Bland (search for this): chapter 7
fore the Ender comes, whose charioteer, II. 330. Behind us at our evening meal, II. 271. Believe me, Lucy Laroom, it gives me real sorrow, IV. 405. Beneath the low-hung night cloud, i. 352. Beneath the moonlight and the snow, II. 164. Beneath thy skies, November, III. 192. Beside a stricken field I stood, III. 223. Beside that milestone where the level sun, II. 168. Between the gates of birth and death, IV. 312. Bind up thy tresses, thou beautiful one, IV. 356. Bland as the morning breath of June, II. 17. Blessings on thee, little man, II. 126. Blest land of Judaea! thrice hallowed of song, II. 196. Blossom and greenness, making all, IV. 310. Bring out your dead! The midnight street, i. 19. Build at Kallundborg by the sea, IV. 265. But what avail inadequate words to reach, II. 329. By fire and cloud, across the desert sand, III. 348. Call him not heretic whose works attest, II. 326. Calm on the breast of Loch Maree, i. 124.
Sarah Greenleaf (search for this): chapter 7
d inadequate the shadow-play, II. 169. Pray give the Atlantic, IV. 408. Put up the sword! The voice of Christ once more, III. 365. Raze these long blocks of brick and stone, i. 230. Red as the banner which enshrouds, IV. 343. Right in the track where Sherman, III. 264. Rivermouth Rocks are fair to see, IV. 235. Robert Rawlin!—Frosts were falling, i. 160. Sad Mayflower! watched by winter stars, II. 35. Saint Patrick, slave to Milcho of the herds, III. 239. Sarah Greenleaf, of eighteen years, IV. 393. Say, whose is this fair picture, which the light, IV. 386. Scarce had the solemn Sabbath-bell, III. 153. Seeress of the misty Norland, IV. 52. She came and stood in the Old South Church, i. 371. She sang alone, ere womanhood had known, IV. 309. She sings by her wheel at that low cottage door, III. 30. She was a fair young girl, yet on her brow, IV. 349. Should you go to Centre Harbor, IV. 402. Silence o'er sea and earth, IV. 338.
Wake (search for this): chapter 7
Unfathomed deep, unfetter'd waste, IV. 337. Unnoted as the setting of a star, IV. 154. Up and down the village streets, i. 210. Up from the meadows rich with corn, III. 245. Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing, IV. 311. Up, laggards of Freedom!—our free flag is cast, III. 189. Up the hillside, down the glen, III. 94. Up the streets of Aberdeen, i. 107. Voice of a people suffering long, III. 268. Voice of the Holy Spirit, making known, II. 326. Wake, sisters, wake! the day-star shines, II. 312. Wave of an awful torrent, thronging down, IV. 384. Weary of jangling noises never stilled, II. 336. We cross the prairie as of old, III. 176. We give thy natal day to hope, III. 367. We had been wandering for many days, i. 80. We have opened the door, i. 376. Welcome home again, brave seaman! with thy thoughtful brow and gray, III. 111. We live by Faith; but Faith is not the slave, II. 327. Well speed thy mission, bold Icon
Welsh (search for this): chapter 7
8. Men of the North-Land! where's the manly spirit, III. 40. Men said at vespers: All is well, IV. 195. 'Midst the men and things which will, II. 182. 'Midst the palace bowers of Hungary, imperial Presburg's pride, IV. 352. Muttering fine upland staple, prime Sea Island finer, IV. 399. My ear is full of summer sounds, II. 213. My garden roses long ago, IV. 219. My heart was heavy, for its trust had been, II. 109. My lady walks her morning round, i. 373. My old Welsh neighbor over the way, i. 314. My thoughts are all in yonder town, II. 301. Nauhaught, the Indian deacon, who of old, i. 304. 'Neath skies that winter never knew, IV. 204. Never in tenderer quiet lapsed the day, i. 322. Night on the city of the Moor, III. 155. Night was down among the mountains, IV. 342. No aimless wanderers, by the fiend Unrest, III. 324. No Berserk thirst of blood had they, IV. 201. No bird-song floated down the hill, II. 53. No more these sim
Andrew Rykman (search for this): chapter 7
Along the aisle where prayer was made, II. 289. Along the roadside, like the flowers of gold, i. 260. Amidst these glorious works of Thine, IV. 186. Amidst Thuringia's wooded hills she dwelt, i. 409. Amidst thy sacred effigies, III. 266. Among their graven shapes to whom, IV. 136. Among 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, IV. 38. A picture memory brings to me, II. 174. A pious magistrate! sound his praise throughout, III. 168. Around Sebago's lonely lake, i. 41. As Adam did in Paradise, IV. 161. A
Gray (search for this): chapter 7
ilent past, i. 37. God bless New Hampshire! from her granite peaks, III. 101. God bless ye, brothers! in the fight, III. 280. God called the nearest angels who dwell with Him above, II. 309. God's love and peace be with thee, where, IV. 70. Gone before us, O our brother, IV. 14. Gone, gone,—sold and gone, III. 56. Gone hath the spring, with all its flowers, II. 20. Gone to thy Heavenly Father's rest, III. 43. Graceful in name and in thyself, our river, IV. 308. Gray searcher of the upper air, IV. 347. Great peace in Europe! Order reigns, III.) 37. Hail, heavenly gift! within the human breast, IV. 336. Hail to Posterity, i. 321. Hands off! thou tithe-fat plunderer! play, IV. 59. Happy young friends, sit by me, i. 416. Haunted of Beauty, like the marvellous youth, IV. 154. Have I not voyaged, friend beloved, with thee, II. 299. Have ye heard of our hunting, o'er mountain and glen, III. 33. Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard
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