The Poets and Poetry of America: To the Middle of the Nineteenth CenturyHart, 1851 - 529 psl. |
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Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
The Poets and Poetry of America– To the Middle of the Nineteenth Century Rufus Wilmot Griswold Visos knygos peržiūra - 1852 |
The Poets and Poetry of America– To the Middle of the Nineteenth Century ... Rufus Wilmot Griswold Visos knygos peržiūra - 1853 |
The Poets and Poetry of America– To the Middle of the Nineteenth Century Rufus Wilmot Griswold Visos knygos peržiūra - 1852 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
amid art thou beam beauty Ben Bolt beneath bird bless blue born bosom breast breath breeze bright brow charm cheek clouds cold Connecticut coursers dark dead dear death deep dream earth evermore fair fear feel flowers friends gaze gentle gleam glorious glory glow grace grave green hand Harvard College hath hear heart heaven hills holy hour land leaves life's light lips living lonely look lyre morning mountain Nashaway ne'er never night o'er pale pass'd Phi Beta Kappa poems poet pride rills Rio Bravo round SAM PATCH scene seem'd shade shadows shine shore sigh silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring star-spangled banner stars storm stream sweet tears tempest thee thine thou art thought throne tree vex'd voice wave wild wind wings woods Yale College youth
Populiarios ištraukos
171 psl. - thou find a summer home, and rest, And scream among thy fellows ; reeds shall bend, Soon, o'er thy shelter'd nest. Thou 'rt gone, the abyss of heaven Hath swallow'd up thy form ; yet, on my heart Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart.
423 psl. - sorrow— Sorrow for the lost Lenore— For the rare and radiant maiden Whom the angels name Lenore— Nameless here for evermore. And the silken, sad, uncertain Rustling of each purple curtain Thrill'd me—fill'd me with fantastic Terrors never felt before ; So that now, to still the beating Of my heart, I stood repeating u 'Tis some
423 psl. - upon a midnight dreary, While I ponder'd, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious Volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, Suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, Rapping at my chamber door. " Tis some visitor," I mutter'd, " Tapping at my chamber door— Only this, and nothing more.
424 psl. - core ; This and more I sat divining, With my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining That the lamplight gloated o'er; But whose velvet violet lining With the lamplight gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, never more ! Then, methought, the air grew denser, Perfum'd from an unseen censer, Swung
321 psl. - And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art, That readest this brief psalm, As one by one thy hopes depart, Be resolute and calm. О fear not in a world like this, And thou shalt know ere long, Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be strong. ENDYMION.
423 psl. - bless'd with seeing Bird above his chamber door— Bird or beast upon the sculptured Bust above his chamber door, With such name as " Nevermore." But the raven sitting lonely On the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in That one word he did outpour. Nothing farther then he uttcr'd— Not a feather then he
319 psl. - Would wear for evermore the curse of Cain ! Down the dark future, through long generations, The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease; And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, I hear once more the voice of Christ say " Peace !" Peace ! and no longer from its brazen portals The
201 psl. - Though in her eye and faded cheek Is read the grief she will not speak, The memory of her buried joys, And even she who gave thee birth, Will, by their pilgrim-circled hearth, Talk of thy doom without a sigh : For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's, One of the few, the immortal names, That were not born to die.
419 psl. - not the dank tarn of Auber, Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir. And now, as the night was senescent, And star-dials pointed to morn— As the star-dials hinted of morn— At the end of our path a liquescent And nebulous lustre was born, Out of which a miraculous crescent Arose with a duplicate horn—
424 psl. - myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking What this ominous bird of yore— What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, Gaunt and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking " Nevermore." This I sat engaged in guessing. But no syllable expressing To the fowl whose