Reconstruct the poem by dragging each line into its correct position. You can also use the up (↑) and down (↓) arrows to move a line one place at a time, or the top (⇑) and bottom (⇓) arrows to move a line directly to the top or bottom. Your goal is to reassemble the original poem as accurately as possible. As you move the lines, you'll see whether your arrangement is correct, helping you explore the poem's flow and meaning. You can also print out the jumbled poem to cut up and reassemble in the classroom. Either way, take your time, enjoy the process, and discover how the poet's words come together to create something truly beautiful.
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Not as the flying come,
And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang
The soil where first they trod!
There was woman's fearless eye,
Away from their childhood's land?
Ay, call it holy ground,—
On a stern and rock-bound coast,
This was their welcome home!
When a band of exiles moored their bark
They sought a faith's pure shrine.
With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Not with the roll of the stirring drums,
And the trumpet that sings of fame;
There was manhood's brow serenely high,
In silence and in fear;
The ocean eagle soared
And the rocking pines of the forest roared—
And the stars heard, and the sea;
Freedom to worship God!
From his nest by the white wave's foam;
The hills and waters o'er,
They have left unstained what there they found—
The breaking waves dashed high
And the heavy night hung dark
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?—
To the anthem of the free.
Amidst that pilgrim band:
Not as the conqueror comes,
They, the true-hearted, came,—
They shook the depths of the desert's gloom
Why had they come to wither there
Lit by her deep love's truth;
Their giant branches tossed;
There were men with hoary hair
And the woods against a stormy sky
Amidst the storms they sang;
On the wild New England shore.
What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine?
And the fiery heart of youth.
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You've successfully reconstructed the poem! Your understanding of poetry and attention to detail is impressive.
The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed;
And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came,— Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame;
Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear; They shook the depths of the desert's gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Amidst the storms they sang; And the stars heard, and the sea; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free.
The ocean eagle soared From his nest by the white wave's foam; And the rocking pines of the forest roared— This was their welcome home!
There were men with hoary hair Amidst that pilgrim band: Why had they come to wither there Away from their childhood's land?
There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth; There was manhood's brow serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth.
What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?— They sought a faith's pure shrine.
Ay, call it holy ground,— The soil where first they trod! They have left unstained what there they found— Freedom to worship God!