Page:Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier (1895).djvu/159

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the green Amesbury hill which bears the name Of that half mythic ancestor of mine Who trod its slopes two hundred years ago, Down the long valley of the Merrimac, Midway between me and the river’s mouth, I see thy home, set like an eagle’s nest Among Deer Island’s immemorial pines, Crowning the crag on which the sunset breaks Its last red arrow. Many a tale and song, Which thou hast told or sung, I call to mind, Softening with silvery mist the woods and hills,