Tangled Vines Poetry
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ISBN 13: 9780156881661
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Tangled Vines : A Collection of Mother and Daughter Poems | eBay
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Acceptable : A book with obvious wear. Pages can include considerable notes-in pen or highlighter-but the notes cannot obscure the text. Celebrating the Powwow introduces children to the people and traditions of the Native North American powwow. Native symbols, dances, costumes, and instruments are shown in action-filled photos. Economy International Shipping. Seller does not offer returns. Oh, fruit loved of boyhood! When wild, ugly faces we carved in its skin, Glaring out through the dark with a candle within!
When we laughed round the corn-heap, with hearts all in tune, Our chair a broad pumpkin,—our lantern the moon, Telling tales of the fairy who travelled like steam In a pumpkin-shell coach, with two rats for her team! Then thanks for thy present! Fairer hands never wrought at a pastry more fine, Brighter eyes never watched o'er its baking, than thine! And the prayer, which my mouth is too full to express, Swells my heart that thy shadow may never be less, That the days of thy lot may be lengthened below, And the fame of thy worth like a pumpkin-vine grow, And thy life be as sweet, and its last sunset sky Golden-tinted and fair as thy own Pumpkin pie!
This poem is in the public domain.
Snow-Bound [The sun that brief December day] The sun that brief December day Rose cheerless over hills of gray, And, darkly circled, gave at noon A sadder light than waning moon. Slow tracing down the thickening sky Its mute and ominous prophecy, A portent seeming less than threat, It sank from sight before it set. The wind blew east: we heard the roar Of Ocean on his wintry shore, And felt the strong pulse throbbing there Beat with low rhythm our inland air.
Meanwhile we did your nightly chores,-- Brought in the wood from out of doors, Littered the stalls, and from the mows Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows; Heard the horse whinnying for his corn; And, sharply clashing horn on horn, Impatient down the stanchion rows The cattle shake their walnut bows; While, peering from his early perch Upon the scaffold's pole of birch, The cock his crested helmet bent And down his querulous challenge sent.
The crane and pendent trammels showed, The Turks' heads on the andirons glowed; While childish fancy, prompt to tell The meaning of the miracle, Whispered the old rhyme: "Under the tree, When fire outdoors burns merrily, There the witches are making tea. For such a world and such a night Most fitting that unwarming light, Which only seemed where'er it fell To make the coldness visible.
John Greenleaf Whittier Among the Hills: Prelude [excerpt] No time is this for hands long overworn To task their strength; and unto Him be praise Who giveth quietness! So, as yon harvesters Make glad their nooning underneath the elms With tale and riddle and old snatch of song, I lay aside grave themes, and idly turn The leaves of Memory's sketch-book, dreaming o'er Old summer pictures of the quiet hills, And human life, as quiet, at their feet.
The Mystic's Christmas "All hail! But still apart, unmoved thereat, A pious elder brother sat Silent, in his accustomed place, With God's sweet peace upon his face. Academy of American Poets Educator Newsletter. Teach This Poem. Follow Us. Find Poets.