Identifier: balladslyrics02lodg (find matches)
Title: Ballads and lyrics
Year: 1880 (1880s)
Authors: Lodge, Henry C., (from old catalog) comp
Subjects:
Publisher: Boston, Houghton, Mifflin & Co
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: The Library of Congress

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eHave forty years been growing ! He lives to learn, in lifes hard school,How few who pass above him Lament their triumph and his loss,Like her, — because they love him. John Greenleaf Whittier.* ALADDIN. When I was a beggarly boy. And lived in a cellar damp,I had not a friend nor a toy, But I had Aladdins lamp;When I could not sleep for cold, I had fire enough in my brain.And builded, with roofs of gold, My beautiful castles in Spain! Since then I have toiled day and night,I have money and power good store. But I d give all my lamps of silver bright.For the one that is mine no more; 1 John Greenleaf Whittier was born at Haverhill, Mas-sachusetts, in 1808. He was brought up by his parents in theprinciples of the Quaker belief, to which he has always adhered.He never went to college. He edited ih^New England Review^and afterwards the Pennsylvania Freeman^ an organ of theanti-slavery party, of which he was a prominent member. Hestill lives in quiet retirement at Danvers, Massachusetts.
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And there sot Huldy all alone. See p. 323. THE COURTIJSr. 323 Take, Fortune, whatever you choose, You gave, and may snatch again;I have nothing twould pain me to lose, For I own no more castles in Spain ! James Russell Lowell. THE COURTIN. God makes sech nights, all white an still,Fur z you can look or listen, Moonshine an snow on field an hill,All silence an all glisten. Zekle crep up quite unbeknownAn peeked in thru the winder. An there sot Huldy all alone,ith no one nia;h to hender. A fireplace filled the rooms one side, With half a cord o wood in, —There warnt no stoves (tell comfort died)\ To bake ye to a puddin. The wanut logs shot sparkles outTowards the pootiest, bless her, An leetle flames danced all aboutThe chiny on the dresser. Agin the chimbley crook-necks hung,An in amongjst em rusted The ole queens-arm thet granther YoungFetched back from Concord busted. 324 BALLADS AND LYRICS. The very room, coz she was in,Seemed warm from floor to ceilin, An she looked full ez rosy

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