The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth LongfellowJ.R. Osgood and Company, 1878 - 375 psl. |
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4 psl.
... till our homes are free ! Guard it ! -God will prosper thee ! In the dark and trying hour , In the breaking forth of power , In the rush of steeds and men , His right hand will shield thee then . " Take thy banner ! But , when night ...
... till our homes are free ! Guard it ! -God will prosper thee ! In the dark and trying hour , In the breaking forth of power , In the rush of steeds and men , His right hand will shield thee then . " Take thy banner ! But , when night ...
21 psl.
... Till at length thy rest thou findest In the bosom of the sea ! Four long years of mingled feeling , Half in rest , and half in strife , I have seen thy waters stealing Onward , like the stream of life . Thou hast taught me , Silent ...
... Till at length thy rest thou findest In the bosom of the sea ! Four long years of mingled feeling , Half in rest , and half in strife , I have seen thy waters stealing Onward , like the stream of life . Thou hast taught me , Silent ...
24 psl.
... Till their chimes in sweet collision Mingled with each wandering vision , Mingled with the fortune - telling Gipsy - bands of dreams and fancies , Which amid the waste expanses Of the silent land of trances Have their solitary dwelling ...
... Till their chimes in sweet collision Mingled with each wandering vision , Mingled with the fortune - telling Gipsy - bands of dreams and fancies , Which amid the waste expanses Of the silent land of trances Have their solitary dwelling ...
25 psl.
... Till the bell of Ghent responded o'er lagoon and dike of sand , I am Roland ! I am Roland ! there is victory in the land ! " Then the sound of drums aroused me . The awakened city's roar Chased the phantoms I had summoned back into ...
... Till the bell of Ghent responded o'er lagoon and dike of sand , I am Roland ! I am Roland ! there is victory in the land ! " Then the sound of drums aroused me . The awakened city's roar Chased the phantoms I had summoned back into ...
30 psl.
... Till at length the lays they chanted Reached the chamber terror - haunted , Where the monk , with accents holy , Whispered at the baron's ear . Tears upon his eyelids glistened , As he paused awhile and listened , And the dying baron ...
... Till at length the lays they chanted Reached the chamber terror - haunted , Where the monk , with accents holy , Whispered at the baron's ear . Tears upon his eyelids glistened , As he paused awhile and listened , And the dying baron ...
Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Visos knygos peržiūra - 1865 |
The poetical works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Visos knygos peržiūra - 1864 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Angel answered arms beautiful behold bell beneath birds breath bright called clouds comes dark dead death deep door dreams earth Enter eyes face fair fall father fear feel feet fell fire flowers follow forest Friar give gleam golden grave hand hast head hear heard heart heaven Hiawatha holy King land Laughing leaves light listen living look loud maiden moon morning never night o'er once passed play Pray prayer Prince Henry rest ring rise river rose round rushing sail sang seemed shadows shining side silent singing sleep soft song soul sound speak spirit stand stars stood strong sweet Take tell thee things thou thought Till town turned unto Vict village voice wait walls wandered waves wild wind young youth
Populiarios ištraukos
1 psl. - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
140 psl. - We see but dimly through the mists and vapours ; Amid these earthly damps, What seem to us but sad funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps. There is no Death ! what seems so is transition ; This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death.
355 psl. - The belfry tower of the Old North Church, As it rose above the graves on the hill, Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight A second lamp in the belfry burns!
355 psl. - It was twelve by the village clock When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. He heard the crowing of the' cock, And the barking of the farmer's dog, And felt the damp of the river fog, That rises after the sun goes down. It was one by the village clock, When he galloped into Lexington.
39 psl. - The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, ' As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, That my soul cannot resist: A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, 10 And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
135 psl. - Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State ! Sail on, O Union, strong and great ! Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! We know what Master laid thy keel, What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope...
4 psl. - In the cottage of the rudest peasant, In ancestral homes, whose crumbling towers, Speaking of the Past unto the Present, Tell us of the ancient Games of Flowers ; In all places, then, and in all seasons, Flowers expand their light and soul-like wings, Teaching us, by most persuasive reasons, How akin they are to human things. And with childlike, credulous affection We behold their tender buds expand ; Emblems of our own great resurrection, Emblems of the bright and better land.
20 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 or forts!
355 psl. - It was one by the village clock when he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock swim in the moonlight as he passed, and the meeting-house windows...
1 psl. - Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act, act in the living Present! Heart within, and God o'erhead!