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Página 127 - FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Soon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing at St Ann's our parting hymn.* Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near and the daylight*» past Why should we yet our sail unfurl?
Página 127 - Why should we yet our sail unfurl? There is not a breath the blue wave to curl; But, when the wind blows off the shore, Oh! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar. Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near and the daylight's past. Utawas' tide ! this trembling moon Shall see us float over thy surges soon.
Página 25 - ... is not the owner of three hundred and twenty acres of land in any State or Territory...
Página 125 - THEY made her a grave too cold and damp For a soul so warm and true ; And she's gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp,' Where, all night long, by a fire-fly lamp, She paddles her white canoe.
Página 135 - Howe'er it be, it seems to me 'Tis only noble to be good. Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood.
Página 26 - That any person who is the head of a family, or who has arrived at the age of twenty-one years, and is a citizen of the United States, or who shall have filed his declaration of intention to become such...
Página 84 - To the West, to the West, to the land of the free, Where the mighty Missouri rolls down to the sea; Where a man is a man if he's willing to toil, And the humblest may gather the fruits of the soil; Where children are blessings, and he who hath most Has aid for his fortune and riches to boast.
Página 264 - Mormon came out, a copy of it was taken to New Salem, the place of Mr. Spaulding's former residence, and the very place where the ' Manuscript Found' was written. A woman preacher appointed a meeting there, and in the meeting read and repeated copious extracts from the book of Mormon.
Página 137 - But not the left!" young Garfield cries; from that we must not sever. While Thomas holds the field that lies On Chickamauga River!" Oh ! on that day of clouded gold, How, half of hope bereft. The cannoneers, like Titans, rolled Their thunders on the left! I see the battle-clouds again. With glowing autumn splendors blending: It seemed as if the gods with men Were on Olympian heights contending. Through tongues of flame, through meadows brown, Dry valley roads concealed, Ohio's hero dashes down Upon...