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Mexico (Mexico, Mexico) (search for this): chapter 7
Index of first lines A beautiful and happy girl, II. 95. A bending staff I would not break, II. 236. A blush as of roses, III. 185. Above, below, in sky and sod, II. 249. A Christian! going, gone, III. 87. A cloud, like that the old-time Hebrew saw, II. 84. Across the frozen marshes, III. 350. Across the sea I heard the groans, III. 360. Across the Stony Mountains, o'er the desert's drouth 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?
Maine (Maine, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
rom Alton Bay to Sandwich Dome, II. 91. From gold to gray, III. 353. From pain and peril, by land and main, IV. 290. From purest wells of English undefiled, IV. 302. From the green Amesbury hill which bears the name, i. 391. From the heart of Waumbek Methna, from the lake that never fall, i. 154. From the hills of home forth looking, far beneath the tent-like span, i. 166. From these wild rocks I look to-day, IV. 180. From the well-springs of Hudson, the sea-cliffs of Maine, IV. 166. From Yorktown's ruins, ranked and still, III. 128. Gallery of sacred pictures manifold, II. 327. Get ye up from the wrath of God's terrible day, II. 191. Gift from the cold and silent 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
Saint Patrick (Missouri, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
Poet and friend of poets, if thy glass, IV. 285. Poor and 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
Penobscot (Maine, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
'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 simple flowers belong, IV. 92. Not always as the whirlwind's rush, II. 193. Not as a poor requital of the joy, IV. 34. Not on Penobscot's wooded bank the spires, IV. 222. Not unto us who did but seek, III. 257. Not vainly did old poets tell, IV. 42. Not vainly we waited and counted the hours, IV. 401. Not without envy Wealth at times must look, III. 366. Not with the splendors of the days of old, III. 58. Now, joy and thanks forevermore, III. 146. O Ary Scheffer! when beneath thine eye, III. 211. O Christ of God! whose life and death, II. 305. O dearest bloom the seasons know, II. 331. O dea
Westminster (Maryland, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
ht I trod, II. 123. In sky and wave the white clouds swam, IV. 259. In that black forest, where, when day is done, II. 256. In the fair land o'erwatched by Ischia's mountains, IV. 102. In the minister's morning sermon, II. 323. In the old days (a custom laid aside, IV. 279. In the old Hebrew myth the lion's frame, III. 263. In the outskirts of the village, i. 178. In the solemn days of old, III. 332. In trance and dream of old, God's prophet saw, IV. 119. In Westminster's royal halls, III. 142. I said I stood upon thy grave, III. 171. I shall not soon forget that sight, II. 98. I sing the Pilgrim of a softer clime, i. 322. Is it the palm, the cocoa-palm, II. 52. I spread a scanty board too late, II. 178. Is this the land our fathers loved, III. 35. Is this thy voice whose treble notes of fear, III. 104. It chanced that while the pious troops of France, III. 343. It is done, III. 254. Its windows flashing to the sky, i. 217.
Time (Pennsylvania, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
the Great Lake's sunny smiles, IV. 241. Where Time the measure of his hours, II. 188. White clouds, whose shadows haunt the deep, II. 27. Who gives and hides the giving hand, II. 314. Who, looking backward from his manhood's prime, II. 232. Who stands on that cliff, like a figure of stone, IV. 357. Why urge the long, unequal fight, III. 345. Wildly round our woodland quarters, III. 297 With a cold and wintry noon-light, III. 106. With a glory of winter sunshine, IV. 150. With clearer light, Cross of the South, shine forth, III. 361. With fifty years between you and your well-kept wedding vow, IV. 197. With warning hand I mark Time's rapid flight, II. 322. With wisdom far beyond her years, IV. 126. Years since (but names to me before), IV. 122. Yes, let them gather! Summon forth, III. 72. Yes, pile the marble o'er him! It is well, IV. 22. You flung your taunt across the wave, III. 226. You scarcely need my tardy thanks, II. 116.
Department de Ville de Paris (France) (search for this): chapter 7
So, this is all,—the utmost reach, III. 50. Sound now the trumpet warningly, IV. 400. Sound over all waters, reach out from all lands, II. 304. Spare me, dread angel oi reproof, II. 265. Speak and tell us, our Ximena, looking northward far away, i. 112. Spirit of the frozen North, IV. 340. Stand still, my soul, in the silent dark, II. 220. Statesman, I thank thee! and, if yet dissent, III. 215. Still, as of old, in Beaveor's Vale, II. 342. Still in thy streets, O Paris! doth the stain, III. 318. Still linger in our noon of time, II. 306. Still sits the school-house by the road, II. 162. Stranger and traveller, II. 323. Stream of my fathers! sweetly still, II. 10. Strike home, strong-hearted man! Down to the root, IV. 41. Summer's last sun nigh unto setting shines, IV. 314 Sunlight upon Judaea's hills, II. 195. Sweetest of all childlike dreams, II. 59. Take our hands, James Russell Lowell, IV. 152. Talk not of sad November,
Marblehead (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
other, IV. 46. This day, two hundred years ago, IV. 160. Thou dwellest not,O Lord of all, IV. 188. Tough flowers have perished at the touch, i. 81. Thou hast fallen in thine armor, IV. 11. Thrice welcome to thy sisters from the Land of Flowers, IV. 216. Thrice welcome from the by <*>, i. 127. Thrice welcome to thy sisters <*> Through heat and cold, and shower and sun, III. 304. Through the long hall the shuttered windows shed, III. 193. Through the streets of Marblehead, IV. 210. Through Thy clear spaces, Lord, of old, II. 235. Thy error, Fremont, simply was to act, III. 222. 'Tis over, Moses! All is lost, III. 117. Tis said that in the Holy Land, II. 111. 'Tis the noon of the spring-time, yet never a bird, II. 24. To-day the plant by Williams set, IV. 189. Token of friendship, true and tried, III. 69. To kneel before some saintly shrine, II. 86. To the God of all sure mercies let my blessing rise to-day, i. 65. To the winds
Hungary (Hungary) (search for this): chapter 7
V. 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 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
Centre Harbor (Maine, United States) (search for this): chapter 7
atrick, 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. Smoothing soft the nestling head, II. 337. So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn, IV. 62. Some die too late and some too soon, IV. 63. So spake Esaias; so, in words of flame, IV. 97. So stood of old the holy Christ, II. 308. So, this is all,—the utmost reach, III. 50. Sound now the trumpet warningly, IV. 400. Sound over all waters, reach out from all lands, II. 304. Spare me, dread angel oi reproof, II. 265.
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