Poets of AmericaHoughton Mifflin, 1885 - 516 psl. |
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ix psl.
... land during the period considered , has idealized - often in- spired - the national sentiment , the historic movements , of the land whose writers have composed it . 2. This nation already , in the second century of a growth which began ...
... land during the period considered , has idealized - often in- spired - the national sentiment , the historic movements , of the land whose writers have composed it . 2. This nation already , in the second century of a growth which began ...
x psl.
... lands and times . We see , also , that this term has been singularly con- current with that of the Victorian hemicycle , so that an examination of the poetry of our English tongue for the last fifty years is compassed in my two books ...
... lands and times . We see , also , that this term has been singularly con- current with that of the Victorian hemicycle , so that an examination of the poetry of our English tongue for the last fifty years is compassed in my two books ...
2 psl.
... land as notable as any upon earth . These may seem crude and familiar to ourselves , and possibly are not fully estimated by older nations whose very age and glory make them self - contained . But , if the future is to have a greatness ...
... land as notable as any upon earth . These may seem crude and familiar to ourselves , and possibly are not fully estimated by older nations whose very age and glory make them self - contained . But , if the future is to have a greatness ...
7 psl.
... lands and people ; the currents still set this way ; our modern intercourse with the world at large is close and unintermitting , so that the raw ingredients of our national admixture are supplied quite as rapidly as the whirl and stir ...
... lands and people ; the currents still set this way ; our modern intercourse with the world at large is close and unintermitting , so that the raw ingredients of our national admixture are supplied quite as rapidly as the whirl and stir ...
8 psl.
... land . If we ourselves are unconscious of it , or wonted to it ; if the air and fashion that we display seem to us imperceptible or of small account , they are not so regarded by our kinsmen , or by the guest who lands upon these shores ...
... land . If we ourselves are unconscious of it , or wonted to it ; if the air and fashion that we display seem to us imperceptible or of small account , they are not so regarded by our kinsmen , or by the guest who lands upon these shores ...
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
American anapestic artist ballads bard Bayard Taylor beauty blank-verse Bryant cæsura charm critical Deukalion didacticism distinct Divine Comedy dramatic early effort Emerson England English essays expression fancy feeling genius gift Goethe hand heart hexameter Holmes humor ideal idyl imagination instinct intellectual kind labor land learned Leaves of Grass less letters literary literature Longfellow Lowell Lowell's Margaret Fuller master measure melody ment method metrical modern mood muse native nature never original passion pieces Poe's poems poet poet's poetic poetry prose Puritan Quaker reader rhyme rience romance scarcely seemed sense sentiment song soul spirit stanzas style sure sweet taste Taylor Tennyson Thanatopsis theme Theocritus things thou thought tion torian touch traits translation true truth ture Ulalume verse voice Walt Whitman Whitman Whittier writers written youth
Populiarios ištraukos
388 psl. - THERE was a child went forth every day, And the first object he look'd upon, that object he became, And that object became part of him for the day or a certain part of the day, Or for many years or stretching cycles of years.
355 psl. - I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
162 psl. - The hand that rounded Peter's dome And groined the aisles of Christian Rome Wrought in a sad sincerity; Himself from God he could not free; He builded better than he knew; The conscious stone to beauty grew.
243 psl. - But lo, a stir is in the air! The wave — there is a movement there! As if the towers had thrust aside, In slightly sinking, the dull tide — As if their tops had feebly given A void within the filmy Heaven. The waves have now a redder glow — The hours are breathing faint and low — And when, amid no earthly moans, Down, down that town shall settle hence, Hell, rising from a thousand thrones, Shall do it reverence.
167 psl. - Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days, Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes, And marching single in an endless file. Bring diadems and fagots in their hands. To each they offer gifts after his will. Bread, kingdoms, stars, and sky that holds them all.
118 psl. - A hard, dull bitterness of cold, That checked, mid-vein, the circling race Of life-blood in the sharpened face, The coming of the snow-storm told. The wind blew east ; we heard the roar Of Ocean on his wintry shore, And felt the strong pulse throbbing there Beat with low rhythm our inland air.
247 psl. - Banners yellow, glorious, golden, On its roof did float and flow (This — all this — was in the olden Time long ago) And every gentle air that dallied, In that sweet day, Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, A winged odor went away.
243 psl. - Lo! Death has reared himself a throne In a strange city lying alone Far down within the dim West, Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best Have gone to their eternal rest. There shrines and palaces and towers (Time-eaten towers that tremble not!) Resemble nothing that is ours. Around, by lifting winds forgot, Resignedly beneath the sky The melancholy waters lie.
167 psl. - DAUGHTERS of Time, the hypocritic Days, Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes, And marching single in an endless file, Bring diadems and fagots in their hands. To each they offer gifts after his will, Bread, kingdoms, stars, and sky that holds them all. I, in my pleached garden, watched the pomp, Forgot my morning wishes, hastily Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day Turned and departed silent. I, too late, Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn.
152 psl. - For Nature beats in perfect tune, And rounds with rhyme her every rune, Whether she work in land or sea, Or hide underground her alchemy. Thou canst not wave thy staff in air, Or dip thy paddle in the lake, But it carves the bow of beauty there, And the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake.