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The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), The tent on the Beach (search)
s her child aside. “Rake out the red coals, goodman,— For there the child shall lie, Till the black witch comes to fetch her And both up chimney fly. It's never my own little daughter, It's never my own, “she said; ” The witches have stolen my Anna, And left me an imp instead. Oh, fair and sweet was my baby, Blue eyes, and hair of gold; But this is ugly and wrinkled, Cross, and cunning, and old. I hate the touch of her fingers, I hate the feel of her skin; It's not the milk from my boso in. My face grows sharp with the torment; Look! my arms are skin and bone! Rake open the red coals, goodman, And the witch shall have her own. She'll come when she hears it crying, In the shape of an owl or bat, And she'll bring us our darling Anna In place of her screeching brat. “ Then the goodman, Ezra Dalton, Laid his hand upon her head: “Thy sorrow is great, O woman! I sorrow with thee,” he said. “The paths to trouble are many, And never but one sure way Leads out to the li
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Poems by Elizabeth H. Whittier (search)
as in a dream, Watching how the little river Fell into the broader stream. Calm and still the mingled current Glided to the waiting sea; On its breast serenely pictured Floating cloud and skirting tree. And I thought, “O human spirit! Strong and deep and pure and blest, Let the stream of my existence Blend with thine, and find its rest!” I could die as dies the river, In that current deep and wide; I would live as live its waters, Flashing from a stronger tide The Wedding veil. dear Anna, when I brought her veil, Her white veil, on her wedding night, Threw o'er my thin brown hair its folds, And, laughing, turned me to the light. “See, Bessie, see! you wear at last The bridal veil, forsworn for years!” She saw my face,—her laugh was hushed, Her happy eyes were filled with tears. With kindly haste and trembling hand She drew away the gauzy mist; “Forgive, dear heart!” her sweet voice said: Her loving lips my forehead kissed. We passed from out the searching light;
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Index of first lines (search)
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! midst all rejoicing things, IV. 321. Fair Nature's priestesses! to whom, IV. 67. Far away in the twilight time, i. 192. Far from