The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth LongfellowJ.R. Osgood and Company, 1878 - 375 psl. |
Knygos viduje
Rezultatai 1–5 iš 82
15 psl.
... father's hall Shields gleamed upon the wall , Loud sang the minstrels all , Chanting his glory ; When of old Hildebrand I asked his daughter's hand , Mute did the minstrel stand To hear my story . " While the brown ale he quaffed , Loud ...
... father's hall Shields gleamed upon the wall , Loud sang the minstrels all , Chanting his glory ; When of old Hildebrand I asked his daughter's hand , Mute did the minstrel stand To hear my story . " While the brown ale he quaffed , Loud ...
17 psl.
... father , I see a gleaming light , O say , what may it be ? " But the father answered never a word , A frozen corpse was he . Lashed to the helm , all stiff and stark , With his face turned to the skies , The lantern gleamed through the ...
... father , I see a gleaming light , O say , what may it be ? " But the father answered never a word , A frozen corpse was he . Lashed to the helm , all stiff and stark , With his face turned to the skies , The lantern gleamed through the ...
34 psl.
... Father of his Country , dwelt . And yonder meadows broad and damp The fires of the besieging camp Encircled with a burning belt . Up and down these echoing stairs , Heavy with the weight of cares , Sounded his majestic tread ; Yes ...
... Father of his Country , dwelt . And yonder meadows broad and damp The fires of the besieging camp Encircled with a burning belt . Up and down these echoing stairs , Heavy with the weight of cares , Sounded his majestic tread ; Yes ...
57 psl.
... father and a ragged shirt . Now , look you , you are gentlemen who lead the life of crickets ; you enjoy hunger by day and noise by night . Yet , I beseech you , for this once be not loud , but pathetic ; for it is a serenade to a ...
... father and a ragged shirt . Now , look you , you are gentlemen who lead the life of crickets ; you enjoy hunger by day and noise by night . Yet , I beseech you , for this once be not loud , but pathetic ; for it is a serenade to a ...
69 psl.
... father ? To whom , then ? Pre . Who needs it more . Cruz . To one No one can need it more . What , I , who lurk about Pre . Thou art not poor . Cruz . In dismal suburbs and unwholesome lanes ; I , who am housed worse than the galley ...
... father ? To whom , then ? Pre . Who needs it more . Cruz . To one No one can need it more . What , I , who lurk about Pre . Thou art not poor . Cruz . In dismal suburbs and unwholesome lanes ; I , who am housed worse than the galley ...
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
Acadian Albrecht Dürer angel Balt beautiful behold BELFRY OF BRUGES bell beneath birds Bons amis breast breath bright brooklet Carlos clouds cried dark dead death door dost dreams earth Edenhall Elsie evermore eyes face fair fear feet fire flowers forest Friar gazed Gipsy gleams golden grave hand hear heard heart heaven Hiawatha holy Kenabeek land Lara laughed leaves light lips look loud Lucifer maiden meadow Mondamin monk moon morning night Nokomis o'er Osseo Padre passed Pau-Puk-Keewis Pray prayer Preciosa Prince Henry rain ring river rose round sails Saint sang shadows shining Sigrid the Haughty silent singing sleep smile song Song of Hiawatha sorrow soul sound spake stands stars stood sunshine sweet Tharaw thee thine thou art thought town unto Vict village voice walls wampum wander whispered wigwam wild wind words 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!