PoemsJ. Munroe & Company, 1847 - 251 psl. |
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35 psl.
... anew this throbbing heart , And we are never old . Over the winter glaciers , I see the summer glow , And , through the wild - piled snowdrift , The warm rosebuds below . ALPHONSO OF CASTILE . I , ALPHONSO , live and THE WORLD - SOUL . 35.
... anew this throbbing heart , And we are never old . Over the winter glaciers , I see the summer glow , And , through the wild - piled snowdrift , The warm rosebuds below . ALPHONSO OF CASTILE . I , ALPHONSO , live and THE WORLD - SOUL . 35.
75 psl.
... the giver of honor . My garden is the cloven rock , And my manure the snow ; And drifting sand - heaps feed my stock , In summer's scorching glow . Ancient or curious , Who knoweth aught of us ? Old as Jove , Old as Love , Who of 75 XXII.
... the giver of honor . My garden is the cloven rock , And my manure the snow ; And drifting sand - heaps feed my stock , In summer's scorching glow . Ancient or curious , Who knoweth aught of us ? Old as Jove , Old as Love , Who of 75 XXII.
92 psl.
... glowing angel , the outcast corse . Thou metest him by centuries , And lo ! he passes like the breeze ; Thou seek'st in globe and galaxy , He hides in pure transparency ; Thou askest in fountains and in fires , He is the essence that ...
... glowing angel , the outcast corse . Thou metest him by centuries , And lo ! he passes like the breeze ; Thou seek'st in globe and galaxy , He hides in pure transparency ; Thou askest in fountains and in fires , He is the essence that ...
102 psl.
... glow , Sets the life - pulse strong but slow : Bitter winds and fasts austere His quarantines and grottos , where He slowly cures decrepit flesh , And brings it infantile and fresh . These exercises are the toys And games with which he ...
... glow , Sets the life - pulse strong but slow : Bitter winds and fasts austere His quarantines and grottos , where He slowly cures decrepit flesh , And brings it infantile and fresh . These exercises are the toys And games with which he ...
119 psl.
... glowing friend , That would indignant rend The northland from the south ? Wherefore ? to what good end ? Boston Bay and Bunker Hill Would serve things still ; Things are of the snake . The horseman serves the horse , The neatherd serves ...
... glowing friend , That would indignant rend The northland from the south ? Wherefore ? to what good end ? Boston Bay and Bunker Hill Would serve things still ; Things are of the snake . The horseman serves the horse , The neatherd serves ...
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
agrimony amulets astronomy bard beauty bird blessed blood boughs breeze brook Canst child churl cloud Cossack Dæmon dear deep delight divine doth draw earth eternal eyebeam Fakirs fall Fate feet flame flowers forest forest fall forever genius German glow gods GOETHE grace Hafiz hast hath Hearken heaven Heed hill Houris JAMES MUNROE JEAN PAUL RICHTER Jove juice land leaves light lore lover maid melt mind morning mountain Muse Nature Nature's never o'er pale Pentecost pine pine-tree plant Pleiads POEMS poet Price 50 cents pulse race rhyme rose round Saadi SAMUEL OSGOOD scorn secret seek shadow shines sings song soul sphere Sphinx star sunbeam sweet thee thine eye things thou thou shalt thought throbbing thrush thy heart Translated tree Twill unto Uriel volume wave wild wind wise wood
Populiarios ištraukos
250 psl. - BY the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world.
72 psl. - The timid it concerns to ask their way, And fear what foe in caves and swamps can stray, To make no step until the event is known, And ills to come as evils past bemoan. Not so the wise ; no coward watch he keeps To spy what danger on his pathway creeps ; Go where he will, the wise man is at home, His hearth the earth, — his hall the azure dome ; Where his clear spirit leads him, there's his road, By God's own light illumined and foreshowed.
141 psl. - T is a brave master; Let it have scope: Follow it utterly, Hope beyond hope: High and more high It dives into noon, With wing unspent, Untold intent; But it is a god, Knows its own path And the outlets of the sky. It was never for the mean; It requireth courage stout. Souls above doubt, Valor unbending, It will reward,-- They shall return More than they were, And ever ascending.
12 psl. - In stings of remorse. Have I a lover Who is noble and free ? — I would he were nobler Than to love me. " Eterne alternation Now follows, now flies ; And under pain, pleasure, — Under pleasure, pain lies. ;/ *••< Love works at the centre, Heart-heaving alway ; Forth speed the strong pulses To the borders of day. " Dull Sphinx, Jove keep thy five wits ; Thy sight is growing blear; Rue, myrrh and cummin for the Sphinx, __~- Her muddy eyes to clear...
53 psl. - Where are these men ? Asleep beneath their grounds And strangers, fond as they, their furrows plough. Earth laughs in flowers, to see her boastful boys Earth-proud, proud of the earth which is not theirs ; Who steer the plough, but cannot steer their feet Clear of the grave.
138 psl. - Olympian bards who sung Divine ideas below, Which always find us young, And always keep us so.
29 psl. - Or by knowledge grown too bright To hit the nerve of feebler sight. Straightway, a forgetting wind Stole over the celestial kind, And their lips the secret kept, If in ashes the fire-seed slept. But now and then, truth-speaking things Shamed the angels...
120 psl. - And ride mankind. There are two laws discrete, Not reconciled — Law for man, and law for thing; The last builds town and fleet, But it runs wild, And doth the man unking.
121 psl. - Let man serve law for man; Live for friendship, live for love, For truth's and harmony's behoof; The state may follow how it can, As Olympus follows Jove.
59 psl. - Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook, To please the desert and the sluggish brook. The purple petals, fallen in the pool, Made the black water with their beauty gay; Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool, And court the flower that cheapens his array. Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why This charm is wasted on the earth and sky, Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing, Then Beauty is its own excuse for being: Why thou wert there, 0 rival of the rose!