The New England Farmer, Volume 6

Front Cover
J. Nourse, 1854
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Page 424 - re flowing from our native hills As our free rivers flow ; The blessing of our Mother-land Is on us as we go. We go to plant her common schools On distant prairie swells, And give the Sabbaths of the wild The music of her bells. Upbearing, like the Ark of old, The Bible in our van, We go to test the truth of God Against the fraud of man.
Page 424 - We cross the prairie as of old The Pilgrims crossed the sea, To make the West, as they the East, The homestead of the free!
Page 10 - Now, shepherds, to your helpless charge be kind, Baffle the raging year, and fill their pens With food at will; lodge them below the storm, And watch them strict : for from the bellowing east, In this dire season, oft the whirlwind's wing Sweeps up the...
Page 142 - O then to your gardens ye housewives repair, Your walks border up, sow and plant at your leisure ; The bluebird will chant from his box such an air, That all your hard toils will seem truly a pleasure ! He flits through the orchard, he visits each tree, The red flowering peach, and the apple's sweet...
Page 323 - Nor hear my low sweet humming; For in the starry night, And the glad morning light, I come quietly creeping everywhere. Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere; More welcome than the flowers In summer's pleasant hours; The gentle cow is glad, And the merry bird not sad, To see me creeping, creeping everywhere.
Page 439 - ... of the day is done. A gentle failure of the perceptions comes creeping over one : — the spirit of consciousness disengages itself more and more, with slow and hushing degrees, like a mother detaching her hand from that of her sleeping child ; — the mind seems to have a balmy lid closing over it, like the eye : — 'tis closing ; — 'tis more closing ; — 'tis closed.
Page 439 - A gentle failure of the perceptions comes creeping over one: the spirit of consciousness disengages itself more and more, with slow and hushing degrees, like a mother detaching her hand from that of her sleeping child; the mind seems to have a balmy lid closing over it, like the eye. 'Tis closing — 'tis more closing — 'tis closed. The mysterious spirit has gone to take its airy rounds.
Page 235 - Work, work, work! From weary chime to chime ; Work, work, work, As prisoners work for crime : Band and gusset and seam, Seam and gusset and band, Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed, As well as the weary hand.
Page 323 - Here I come creeping, smiling everywhere; All round the open door, Where sit the aged poor; Here where the children play, In the bright and merry May, I come creeping, creeping everywhere.
Page 413 - The man who stands upon his own soil ; who feels, that by the laws of the land in which he lives, — by the law of civilized nations, — he is the rightful and exclusive owner of the land which he tills, is, by the constitution of our nature, under a wholesome influence, not easily imbibed from any other source. He feels, — other things being equal, — more strongly than another, the character of man as the lord of the inanimate world.

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