And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her bosom, Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured, "Father, I thank thee!". Now had the season returned, when the nights grow colder and longer,And the retreating sun the sign of the Scorpion enters.Birds of passage sailed through the leaden air, from the ice-bound,Desolate northern bays to the shores of tropical islands,Harvests were gathered in; and wild with the winds of SeptemberWrestled the trees of the forest, as Jacob of old with the angel.All the signs foretold a winter long and inclement.Bees, with prophetic instinct of want, had hoarded their honeyTill the hives overflowed; and the Indian hunters assertedCold would the winter be, for thick was the fur of the foxes.Such was the advent of autumn. Hailing his slow approach with words of affectionate welcome. Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable longing; As, through the garden gate, and beneath the shade of the oak-trees. Due to the special circumstances regarding RWBY Volume 9's release, make sure that you understand the spoiler rules before posting outside of this thread! Then there were voices heard as of two men talking together. Said, with a smile,"O daughter! "Then would Evangeline answer, serenely but sadly, "I cannot!Whither my heart has gone, there follows my hand, and not elsewhere.For when the heart goes before, like a lamp, and illumines the pathway,Many things are made clear, that else lie hidden in darkness. Without, in the churchyard, Waited the women. In-doors, warm by the wide-mouthed fireplace, idly the farmer, Sat in his elbow-chair, and watched how the flames and the smoke-wreaths. Lighting his pipe, that was filled with sweet Natchitoches tobacco, Thus he spake to his guests, who listened, and smiled as they listened:. White as the great white sheet that Peter saw in his vision. Cheering with looks and words the mournful hearts of the women. Where no path could be seen but the track of wheels in the greensward. Rudely carved was the porch, with seats beneath; and a footpath. Sat in the cheerful sun, and rejoiced and gossiped together. "Benedict Bellefontaine, thou hast ever thy jest and thy ballad! metaphor <p>simile</p> alternatives Many a weary year had passed since the burning of Grand-Pr. The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands, And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. Near to the bank of the river, o'ershadowed by oaks, from whose branches. in the mean time, Many surmises of evil alarm the hearts of the people. Then it chanced in a nobleman's palace, That a necklace of pearls was lost, and erelong a suspicion. Soft was the voice of the priest, and he spake with an accent of kindness; But on Evangeline's heart fell his words as in winter the snow-flakes. Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, and is patient,Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's devotion,List to the mournful tradition still sung by the pines of the forest;List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the happy. is Gabriel gone?" Naming the dower of the bride in flocks of sheep and in cattle. Closed, and in silence the crowd awaited the will of the soldiers. Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Summer of All-Saints! There at the door they stood, with wondering eyes to behold him. Rose the guests and departed; and silence reigned in the household. "Speaking these words, he blew a wrathful cloud from his nostrils,While his huge, brown hand came thundering down on the table,So that the guests all started; and Father Felician, astounded,Suddenly paused, with a pinch of snuff half-way to his nostrils.But the brave Basil resumed, and his words were milder and gayer:"Only beware of the fever, my friends, beware of the fever!For it is not like that of our cold Acadian climate,Cured by wearing a spider hung round one's neck in a nutshell! Like a phantom she came, and passed away unremembered. Gazed on the peaceful scene, with the lordly look of its master. Then it came to pass, one pleasant morning, that slowlyUp the road there came a cavalcade, as of pilgrimsMen and women, wending their way to the Quarterly MeetingIn the neighboring town; and with them came riding John Estaugh.At Elizabeths door they stopped to rest, and alightingTasted the currant wine, and the bread of rye, and the honeyBrought from the hives, that stood by the sunny wall of the garden;Then remounted their horses, refreshed, and continued their journey,And Elizabeth with them, and Joseph, and Hannah the housemaid.But, as they started, Elizabeth lingered a little, and leaningOver her horses neck, in a whisper said to John EstaughTarry awhile behind, for I have something to tell thee,Not to be spoken lightly, nor in the presence of others;Them it concerneth not, only thee and me it concerneth.And they rode slowly along through the woods, conversing together.It was a pleasure to breathe the fragrant air of the forest;It was a pleasure to live on that bright and happy May morning! Laughing loud and long, and embracing mothers and daughters. Now was the winter gone, and the snow; and Robin the Redbreast, Boasted on bush and tree it was he, it was he and no other, That had covered with leaves the Babes in the Wood, and blithely. "Then, with a smile of content, thus answered Basil the blacksmith,Taking with easy air the accustomed seat by the fireside:"Benedict Bellefontaine, thou hast ever thy jest and thy ballad!Ever in cheerfullest mood art thou, when others are filled withGloomy forebodings of ill, and see only ruin before them.Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe. Inland and far up the shore the stranded boats of the sailors. Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, and is patient. Such as the traveller sees in regions remote by the roadside. The house itself was of timbers. he has left me alone with my herds and my horses. The poetry The Village Blacksmith is lovely, intentional, smart, and moving. Bent, but not broken, by age was the form of the notary public; Shocks of yellow hair, like the silken floss of the maize, hung, Over his shoulders; his forehead was high; and glasses with horn bows. Over the joyous feast the sudden darkness descended. The tapers gleamed from the altar. Second, Henry describes the blacksmiths optimism too. Question 4 30 seconds Q. Up and away to-morrow, and through the red dew of the morning, We will follow him fast, and bring him back to his prison.". Long within had been spread the snow-white cloth on the table; There stood the wheaten loaf, and the honey fragrant with wild-flowers; There stood the tankard of ale, and the cheese fresh brought from the dairy; And, at the head of the board, the great arm-chair of the farmer. The line of shadow and sunshineRan near the tops of the trees; but the house itself was in shadow,And from its chimney-top, ascending and slowly expandingInto the evening air, a thin blue column of smoke rose.In the rear of the house, from the garden gate, ran a pathwayThrough the great groves of oak to the skirts of the limitless prairie,Into whose sea of flowers the sun was slowly descending.Full in his track of light, like ships with shadowy canvasHanging loose from their spars in a motionless calm in the tropics,Stood a cluster of trees, with tangled cordage of grapevines. Gabriel had his lodge by the banks of the Saginaw River. Now in secluded hamlets, in towns and populous cities. A day in the life of a modern-day blacksmith. And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline's story, While from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced, neighboring ocean. "Gabriel Lajeunesse!" Fading and melting away and dissolving into the sunshine. As in a church, when the chant of the choir at intervals ceases. Crowded with masts and sails of vessels coming and going; Here there is nothing but pines, with patches of snow on their branches. Still stands the forest primeval; but far away from its shadow. Meanwhile John Estaugh departed across the sea, and departing. Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels. Pawing the ground they came, and resting their necks on each other. Wearing her Norman cap and her kirtle of blue, and the ear-rings. Patiently met her doom at the foot of the statue of Justice. Kindly and oft, and recalling the past, while Basil, enraptured. Worn with the long day's march and the chase of the deer and the bison, Stretched themselves on the ground, and slept where the quivering fire-light, Flashed on their swarthy cheeks, and their forms wrapped up in their blankets, Then at the door of Evangeline's tent she sat and repeated. How spotless the snow is, and perfect!. Wiping the foam from his lip, he solemnly bowed and departed. Stood she, and listened and looked, till, overcome by emotion, "Gabriel!" Exile without an end, and without an example in story. Through the analysis, it was found the dominant figure of speech in selected poems by WilliamWordsworth is personification and simile. Have you so soon forgotten all lessons of love and forgiveness? So is it best, John Estaugh. The Village Blacksmith is a poem about the daily work in a person's life. (The differences between similes and metaphors are considered in the observations . So seemed it wise and well unto all; and betimes on the morrow. Moved on their way, unperturbed by the wrongs and sorrows of mortals. We will not speak of it further.It hath been laid upon me to tell thee this, for to-morrowThou art going away, across the sea, and I know notWhen I shall see thee more; but if the Lord hath decreed it,Thou wilt return again to seek me here and to find me.And they rode onward in silence, and entered the town with the others. THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH of Gloucester, Virginia George Cramer George Cramer began working with metal before the age 14. Thus ere another noon they emerged from the shades; and before themLay, in the golden sun, the lakes of the Atchafalaya.Water-lilies in myriads rocked on the slight undulationsMade by the passing oars, and, resplendent in beauty, the lotusLifted her golden crown above the heads of the boatmen.Faint was the air with the odorous breath of magnolia blossoms,And with the heat of noon; and numberless sylvan islands,Fragrant and thickly embowered with blossoming hedges of roses,Near to whose shores they glided along, invited to slumber.Soon by the fairest of these their weary oars were suspended.Under the boughs of Wachita willows, that grew by the margin,Safely their boat was moored; and scattered about on the greensward,Tired with their midnight toil, the weary travellers slumbered.Over them vast and high extended the cope of a cedar.Swinging from its great arms, the trumpet-flower and the grapevineHung their ladder of ropes aloft like the ladder of Jacob,On whose pendulous stairs the angels ascending, descending,Were the swift humming-birds, that flitted from blossom to blossom.Such was the vision Evangeline saw as she slumbered beneath it.Filled was her heart with love, and the dawn of an opening heavenLighted her soul in sleep with the glory of regions celestial. "As they bore him aloft in triumphal procession; and straightwayFather Felician advanced with Evangeline, greeting the old manKindly and oft, and recalling the past, while Basil, enraptured,Hailed with hilarious joy his old companions and gossips,Laughing loud and long, and embracing mothers and daughters.Much they marvelled to see the wealth of the cidevant blacksmith,All his domains and his herds, and his patriarchal demeanor;Much they marvelled to hear his tales of the soil and the climate,And of the prairie; whose numberless herds were his who would take them;Each one thought in his heart, that he, too, would go and do likewise.Thus they ascended the steps, and, crossing the breezy veranda,Entered the hall of the house, where already the supper of BasilWaited his late return; and they rested and feasted together. Empty and drear was each room, and haunted with phantoms of terror. Going far back to the past, to the early days of her childhood; How she had waited and watched, in all her doubts and besetments, Comforted with the extendings and holy, sweet inflowings. From the accordant strings of Michael's melodious fiddle. "More he fain would have said, but the merciless hand of a soldierSmote him upon the mouth, and dragged him down to the pavement. The village smithy stands; b The smith, a mighty man is he, a With large and sinewy hands; b As you read "Sea-Fever" and "The Village Blacksmith," record rhyming words in a log like the one shown. Handed down from mother to child, through long generations. Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted; If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning. Thus as they sat, there were footsteps heard, and, suddenly lifted. And, with words of kindness, conducted them into his wigwam. Still as of old disparaged the eminent merits of Joseph. And, though their hearts were sad at times and their bodies were weary, Hope still guided them on, as the magic Fata Morgana. " The Village Blacksmith " is a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, first published in 1840. Feeling is deep and still; and the word that floats on the surface. Daily injustice is done, and might is the right of the strongest! which figure of speech is used? Lovely the moonlight was as it glanced and gleamed on the water. Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air the Basin of Minas. Better than houses and lands, the gift of a womans affection. (c) Name and explain the figure of speech in the following line: With large and sinewy hands; Answer: Tautology: Same ideas are expressed through 'large' and 'sinewy'. First far off, with a dreamy sound and faint in the distance. Scenes of endless wooing, and endless contentions of rivals. Still the blaze of the burning village illumined the landscape. Sat, conversing together of past and present and future; While Evangeline stood like one entranced, for within her, Olden memories rose, and loud in the midst of the music, Heard she the sound of the sea, and an irrepressible sadness. View. But when the service was done, and the benediction had fallen. Shone on the eyes of man who had ceased to marvel and worship. Vainly he strove to whisper her name, for the accents unuttered. Benedict Bellefontaine, the wealthiest farmer of Grand-Pr. G. 0% average accuracy. Circles and sails aloft, on pinions majestic, the vulture. Entered, with serious mien, and ascended the steps of the altar. Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's devotion. Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and anger. Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the restless heart of the ocean. They stood by the graves, and hung on the headstonesGarlands of autumn-leaves and evergreens fresh from the forest.Then came the guard from the ships, and marching proudly among themEntered the sacred portal. The, poet welcomes us to the life of a village blacksmith. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring oceanSpeaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest. Voice that in ages of old had startled the penitent Peter. Genre (s): Poetry, Multi-version (Weekly and Fortnightly poetry) Found she the hunter's lodge deserted and fallen to ruin! And the forms of men, snow-covered, looming gigantic. Slow approach with words of affectionate welcome Acadian peasants the Summer of All-Saints speech in selected poems WilliamWordsworth! 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