PoemsCarey and Hart, 1847 - 376 psl. |
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Rezultatai 1–5 iš 41
32 psl.
... thoughts Of the last bitter hour come like a blight Over thy spirit , and sad images Of the stern agony , and shroud , and pall , And breathless darkness , and the narrow house , Make thee to shudder , and grow sick at heart ; - Go ...
... thoughts Of the last bitter hour come like a blight Over thy spirit , and sad images Of the stern agony , and shroud , and pall , And breathless darkness , and the narrow house , Make thee to shudder , and grow sick at heart ; - Go ...
46 psl.
... thoughts that broke my peace , and I began To gather simples by the fountain's brink , And lose myself in day - dreams . While I stood In nature's loneliness , I was with one With whom I early grew familiar , one Who never had a frown ...
... thoughts that broke my peace , and I began To gather simples by the fountain's brink , And lose myself in day - dreams . While I stood In nature's loneliness , I was with one With whom I early grew familiar , one Who never had a frown ...
67 psl.
... thought that the stern power Whose fearful praise I sung , would try me thus Before the strain was ended . It must cease- For he is in his grave who taught my youth The art of verse , and in the bud of life Offered me to the muses . Oh ...
... thought that the stern power Whose fearful praise I sung , would try me thus Before the strain was ended . It must cease- For he is in his grave who taught my youth The art of verse , and in the bud of life Offered me to the muses . Oh ...
71 psl.
... Indian maid Even there thy thoughts will earthward stray , — To her who sits where thou wert laid , And weeps the hours away , Yet almost can her grief forget , To think that thou dost love her yet . " And thou , by one of those still ...
... Indian maid Even there thy thoughts will earthward stray , — To her who sits where thou wert laid , And weeps the hours away , Yet almost can her grief forget , To think that thou dost love her yet . " And thou , by one of those still ...
77 psl.
... thoughts from the woes of the past . And my bosom swelled with a mother's pride , As they stood in their beauty and strength by my side , Tall like their sire , with the princely grace Of his stately form , and the bloom of his face ...
... thoughts from the woes of the past . And my bosom swelled with a mother's pride , As they stood in their beauty and strength by my side , Tall like their sire , with the princely grace Of his stately form , and the bloom of his face ...
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
amid beauty behold beneath bird bloom blossoms blue boughs breath bright brook brow BURIAL-PLACE calm chipping sparrow clouds dark day-dawn dead death deep deer dwell earth ENGRAVED eyes fair flowers forest gathered gaze gentle glad glen glide glorious glory grass grave Greece green GREEN MOUNTAIN BOYS GREEN RIVER groves gushing hand hear heart heaven hills hour HUMPHRYS HYMN Indian insect wings land leaves light look lovers walk maid maiden maize Maquon mighty mighty heart morning murmur night o'er pass PITCAIRN'S ISLAND pleasant rill rivulet Rizpah rocks round savannas shade shine shore sight silent skies sleep smile soft song sound spirit spring stream summer sweet swell tears tempest thee thine thou art thou dost thou hast Thou shalt trees tribes tulip-tree vale voice wandering watch waters weep wild William Cullen Bryant wind wind-flower woods youth
Populiarios ištraukos
37 psl. - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way...
29 psl. - Yet a few days, and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground, Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again...
31 psl. - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, that moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
28 psl. - To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language ; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty ; and she glides Into his darker musings with a mild And gentle sympathy that steals away Their sharpness ere he is aware.
303 psl. - For with thy side shall dwell, at last, The victory of endurance born. Truth; crushed to earth, shall rise again ; The eternal years of God are hers ; But Error, wounded, writhes in pain, And dies among his worshippers. Yea, though thou lie upon the dust, When they who helped thee flee in fear. Die full of hope and manly trust, Like those who fell in battle here. Another hand thy sword shall wield, Another hand the standard wave, Till from the trumpet's mouth is pealed The blast of triumph o'er thy...
136 psl. - There, through the long, long summer hours, The golden light should lie, And thick young herbs and groups of flowers Stand in their beauty by. The oriole should build and tell His love-tale, close beside my cell ; The idle butterfly Should rest him there, and there be heard The housewife bee and humming bird.
130 psl. - God ! when thou Dost scare the world with tempests, set on fire The heavens with falling thunderbolts, or fill With all the waters of the firmament The swift dark whirlwind that uproots...
200 psl. - I would that thus, when I shall see The hour of death draw near to me, Hope, blossoming within my heart, May look to heaven as I depart.
194 psl. - Love, that midst grief began, And grew with years, and faltered not in death. Full many a mighty name Lurks in thy depths, unuttered, unrevered ; With thee are silent fame, Forgotten arts, and wisdom disappeared.
30 psl. - Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there ! And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep — the dead reign there alone.