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spirit responds to his country's spirit . . . . he incarnates its geography and natural life and rivers
and sea, the animals fishes and birds, the sky of heaven and the orbs, the forests mountains and rivers
Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!
To think that the rivers will come to flow, and the snow fall, and fruits ripen . . and act upon others
Cold dash of waves at the ferrywharf, Posh and ice in the river . . . . half-frozen mud in the streets
spirit responds to his country's spirit . . . . he incarnates its geography and natural life and rivers
and sea, the animals fishes and birds, the sky of heaven and the orbs, the forests mountains and rivers
Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!
"His spirit responds to his country's spirit; he incarnates its geography and natural life, and rivers
sea, the animals, fishes, and birds, the sky of heaven and the orbs, the forests, mountains, and rivers
trees of a new purchase, Scorched ankle-deep by the hot sand . . . hauling my boat down the shallow river
A coffin swimming buoyantly on the swift flowing current of the river Yes I believe in the Trinity,—God
and sea, the animals fishes and birds, the sky of heaven and the orbs, the forests mountains and rivers
(like gunpowder catches to fire) pass flow into us like one river into another.
The schooner is reefing hoisting her sai ls l she will soon be down the coast. river pirate old junk
red white or brown gables red, white or brown the ferry boat ever plying forever and ever over the river
The hayboat and barge— flee the two boat with bring her bevy of barges down the river picture of the
I am an old artillerist I tell of some On South Fifth st (Monroe place) 2 doors above the river from
wharves —the huge crossing at the ferries, The village on the highland, seen from afar at sunset—the river
To think that the rivers will flow, and the snow fall, and the fruits ripen, and act upon others as upon
that separates it from prose of any sort: Cold dash of waves at the ferry-wharf—posh and ice in the river
touch and breath of the land, the winds of free, untrodden places, the splendour and vastness of rivers
picturesqueness, and oceanic amplitude and rush of these great cities, the unsurpassed situation, rivers
Always, and more and more, as I cross the East and North rivers, the ferries, or with the pilots in their
incarnate themselves in the forms of god and demi-god, faun and satyr, oread, dryad, and nymph of river
accordance with this view, James Russell Lowell has declined from the higher walks of poetry—from rivers