The Poets and Poetry of AmericaParry and McMillan, 1855 - 622 psl. |
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60 psl.
... thee in Savoy ! Doom'd o'er the world through devious paths to roam , Each clime my country , and each house my home , My soul is soothed , my cares have found an end : I greet my long - lost , unforgotten friend . For thee through ...
... thee in Savoy ! Doom'd o'er the world through devious paths to roam , Each clime my country , and each house my home , My soul is soothed , my cares have found an end : I greet my long - lost , unforgotten friend . For thee through ...
80 psl.
... thee- No , no , I would not love thee ! Nor ever sigh or tear of mine Should idly strive to move thee . As brightly rolls thy dark eye , And curling falls thy glossy hair , As soft thy warm cheek's crimson die They swelling bosom still ...
... thee- No , no , I would not love thee ! Nor ever sigh or tear of mine Should idly strive to move thee . As brightly rolls thy dark eye , And curling falls thy glossy hair , As soft thy warm cheek's crimson die They swelling bosom still ...
91 psl.
... thee as the darkness stole , Before thy wild , creative soul I bade each fairy vision roll Thine infancy had loved ... thee at the midnight hour In bleak November's reign : " T was I the spell around thee cast , When thou didst hear the ...
... thee as the darkness stole , Before thy wild , creative soul I bade each fairy vision roll Thine infancy had loved ... thee at the midnight hour In bleak November's reign : " T was I the spell around thee cast , When thou didst hear the ...
101 psl.
... thee Gives back our choral song . Yet , on the winds that bore thee Their worship and their prayers , May ours come up before thee From hearts as true as theirs ! What have we , Lord , to bind us To this , the Pilgrims ' shore ! - Their ...
... thee Gives back our choral song . Yet , on the winds that bore thee Their worship and their prayers , May ours come up before thee From hearts as true as theirs ! What have we , Lord , to bind us To this , the Pilgrims ' shore ! - Their ...
103 psl.
... thee Many an eye with sorrow wet ; All our stricken hearts deplore thee ; Who , that knew thee , can forget ? Who forgot that thou hast spoken ? Who , thine eye , -that noble frame ? But that golden bowl is broken , In the greatness of ...
... thee Many an eye with sorrow wet ; All our stricken hearts deplore thee ; Who , that knew thee , can forget ? Who forgot that thou hast spoken ? Who , thine eye , -that noble frame ? But that golden bowl is broken , In the greatness of ...
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ANNABEL LEE art thou beam beauty beneath bird blue born bosom breast breath breeze bright brow charm clouds dark dead death deep dream earth evermore fair fear feel flowers forest friends gaze gentle gleam glorious glory glow grace grave green hand Harvard College hast hath hear heart heaven hills holy hour land leaves life's light lips living lonely look LOUIS LEGRAND lyre morning mountain muse N. P. WILLIS Nashaway ne'er never night o'er pale pass'd Phi Beta Kappa PHILIP PENDLETON COOKE poems poet rills Rio Bravo round scene seem'd shade shadows shine shore sigh silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars storm stream sweet swell tears tempest thee thine thou art thought throne tree voice wave wild wind wings woods Yale College youth
Populiarios ištraukos
172 psl. - All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom...
476 psl. - Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you" here I opened wide the door: Darkness there and nothing more.
171 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 healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
182 psl. - Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, That lately sprang and stood In brighter light and softer airs, A beauteous sisterhood ? Alas ! they all are in their graves ; The gentle race of flowers Are lying in their lowly beds, With the fair and good of ours. The rain is falling where they lie, But the cold November rain Calls not, from out the gloomy earth, The lovely ones again.
362 psl. - THE RAINY DAY. THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary ; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary. My life is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary ; My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast And the days are dark and dreary.
357 psl. - Were half the power that fills the world with terror, Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals nor forts : The warrior's name would be a name abhorred ! And every nation that should lift again Its hand against a brother, on its forehead Would wear forevermore the curse of Cain!
470 psl. - But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we, Of many far wiser than we ; And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee...
172 psl. - So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw In silence from the living, and no friend Take note of thy departure? All that breathe Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come And make their bed with thee.
173 psl. - Is beauty, such as blooms not in the glare Of the broad sun. That delicate forest flower, With scented breath, and look so like a smile, Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mould, An emanation of the indwelling Life, A visible token of the upholding Love, That are the soul of this wide universe.
218 psl. - AT midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power ; In dreams, through camp and court, he bore The trophies of a conqueror ; In dreams his song of triumph heard. Then wore his monarch's signet ring, Then pressed that monarch's throne a King ; As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden bird.