Page:Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier (1895).djvu/149

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Crane River’s sunny slopes
 * Blew warm the winds of May,

And over Naumkeag’s ancient oaks
 * The green outgrew the gray.

The grass was green on Rial-side,
 * The early birds at will

Waked up the violet in its dell,
 * The wind-flower on its hill.

Where go you, in your Sunday coat,
 * Son Andrew, tell me, pray.”

For stripëd perch in Wenham Lake
 * I go to fish to-day.”

Unharmed of thee in Wenham Lake
 * The mottled perch shall be:

A blue-eyed witch sits on the bank
 * And weaves her net for thee.

She weaves her golden hair; she sings
 * Her spell-song low and faint;

The wickedest witch in Salem jail
 * Is to that girl a saint.”

Nay, mother, hold thy cruel tongue;
 * God knows,” the young man cried,

He never made a whiter soul
 * Than hers by Wenham side.

She tends her mother sick and blind, "And every want supplies; To her above the blessed Book
 * She lends her soft blue eyes.

Her voice is glad with holy songs,
 * Her lips are sweet with prayer;