Full Online Books
BOOK CATEGORIES
Authors Authors Short Stories Short Stories Long Stories Long Stories Funny Stories Funny Stories Love Stories Love Stories Stories For Kids Stories For Kids Poems Poems Essays Essays Nonfictions Nonfictions Plays Plays Folktales Folktales Fairy Tales Fairy Tales Fables Fables Learning Kitchen Learning Kitchen
LINKS
Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional Free Classified Website Without Registration Free Classified Website Daniel Company
Twitter Twitter Add book
donate
Full Online Book HomePoemsSeventy-six
Famous Authors (View All Authors)
Seventy-six Post by :styles98 Category :Poems Author :William Cullen Bryant Date :January 2011 Read :1109

Click below to download : Seventy-six (Format : PDF)

Seventy-six

What heroes from the woodland sprung,
When, through the fresh awakened land,
The thrilling cry of freedom rung,
And to the work of warfare strung
The yeoman's iron hand!

Hills flung the cry to hills around,
And ocean-mart replied to mart,
And streams whose springs were yet unfound,
Pealed far away the startling sound
Into the forest's heart.

Then marched the brave from rocky steep,
From mountain river swift and cold;
The borders of the stormy deep,
The vales where gathered waters sleep,
Sent up the strong and bold,--

As if the very earth again
Grew quick with God's creating breath,
And, from the sods of grove and glen,
Rose ranks of lion-hearted men
To battle to the death.

The wife, whose babe first smiled that day,
The fair fond bride of yestereve,
And aged sire and matron gray,
Saw the loved warriors haste away,
And deemed it sin to grieve.

Already had the strife begun;
Already blood on Concord's plain
Along the springing grass had run,
And blood had flowed at Lexington,
Like brooks of April rain.

That death-stain on the vernal sward
Hallowed to freedom all the shore;
In fragments fell the yoke abhorred--
The footstep of a foreign lord
Profaned the soil no more.


(The end)
William Cullen Bryant's poem: Seventy-Six

If you like this book please share to your friends :
NEXT BOOKS

The Living Lost The Living Lost

The Living Lost
Matron! the children of whose love, Each to his grave, in youth hath passed,And now the mould is heaped above The dearest and the last!Bride! who dost wear the widow's veilBefore the wedding flowers are pale!Ye deem the human heart enduresNo deeper, bitterer grief than yours.Yet there are pangs of keener wo, Of which the sufferers never speak,Nor to the world's cold pity show The tears that scald the cheek,Wrung from their eyelids by the shameAnd guilt of those they shrink to name,Whom once they loved with cheerful will,And love, though fallen and branded, still.Weep, ye who sorrow for the dead,
PREVIOUS BOOKS

The Hunter Of The Prairies The Hunter Of The Prairies

The Hunter Of The Prairies
Ay, this is freedom!--these pure skies Were never stained with village smoke:The fragrant wind, that through them flies, Is breathed from wastes by plough unbroke.Here, with my rifle and my steed, And her who left the world for me,I plant me the red deer feed In the green desert--and am free.For here the fair savannas know No barriers in the bloomy grass;Wherever breeze of heaven may blow, Or beam of heaven may glance, I pass.In pastures, measureless as air, The bison is my noble game;The bounding elk, whose antlers tear The branches, falls before my aim.Mine are the river-fowl that
NEXT 10 BOOKS | PREVIOUS 10 BOOKS | RANDOM 10 BOOKS
LEAVE A COMMENT