The Poets of America: With Occasional NotesS. Andrus and son, 1847 - 405 psl. |
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Rezultatai 1–5 iš 75
4 psl.
... cold as a winter night's transitory frost - work on our windows . A few beloved volumes , indeed , have their place in the heart ; but they are few ; and of these the praise belongs not exclusively to the genius of poetry , but to a far ...
... cold as a winter night's transitory frost - work on our windows . A few beloved volumes , indeed , have their place in the heart ; but they are few ; and of these the praise belongs not exclusively to the genius of poetry , but to a far ...
24 psl.
... cold hand tremble ? or is't mine That feels so deathy ? Had . Dark imaginations haunt me When I recall the dreadful interview . Tam . O , tell them not - I would not hear them . Had . But why contemn a Spirit's love ? so high , So ...
... cold hand tremble ? or is't mine That feels so deathy ? Had . Dark imaginations haunt me When I recall the dreadful interview . Tam . O , tell them not - I would not hear them . Had . But why contemn a Spirit's love ? so high , So ...
26 psl.
... cold , pale , and almost fainting ; yet it was her favorite of all songs , and gave occasion to these verses , addressed , in her fifteenth year , to her sister . " To young readers it might be useful to observe , that these verses , in ...
... cold , pale , and almost fainting ; yet it was her favorite of all songs , and gave occasion to these verses , addressed , in her fifteenth year , to her sister . " To young readers it might be useful to observe , that these verses , in ...
29 psl.
... And thought of the dark stream In my own land of Egypt , the deep Nile , How prayed I that my father's land might be An heritage for thee ! 3 * And now the grave for its cold breast hath won CHEEVER'S POETS OF AMERICA . 29.
... And thought of the dark stream In my own land of Egypt , the deep Nile , How prayed I that my father's land might be An heritage for thee ! 3 * And now the grave for its cold breast hath won CHEEVER'S POETS OF AMERICA . 29.
30 psl.
With Occasional Notes George Barrell Cheever. And now the grave for its cold breast hath won thee , And thy white , delicate limbs the earth will press ; And oh my last caress Must feel thee cold , for a chill hand is on thee . How can I ...
With Occasional Notes George Barrell Cheever. And now the grave for its cold breast hath won thee , And thy white , delicate limbs the earth will press ; And oh my last caress Must feel thee cold , for a chill hand is on thee . How can I ...
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Absalom beams beauty beneath bird blessed bloom blue bosom breath breeze bright brow calm CARLOS WILCOX clouds cold dark dead death deep didst Doug dread dream dwell earth eternal fair Father fear feel flowers gathering band gaze gentle glorious glory glow golden golden sun gone grave green Hadad hand hast hath hear heart heaven hills holy hour leaves light linger lips living lonely look lyre morning mountain Nath night o'er ocean old oaken bucket pale peace prayer pure rest roll round Samuel F. B. Morse scene shade shalt shine shore silent skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit stars storm stream sublime sweet swell tears tempest thee thine thou art thought thundering bands tomb tread trees Twas twill vale voice Warkworth castle waters waves weary weep white-thorn wild winds wings woods youth
Populiarios ištraukos
35 psl. - The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago, And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow ; But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood, And the yellow sunflower by the ' brook, in autumn beauty stood, Till fell the frost from the clear, cold heaven, as falls the plague on men, And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland, glade, and glen.
140 psl. - To be a brother to the insensible rock And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain Turns with his share and treads upon : the oak Shall send his roots abroad and pierce thy mould.
140 psl. - Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom...
153 psl. - Ah, why Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore Only among the crowd, and under roofs That our frail hands have raised ? Let me, at least, Here, in the shadow of this aged wood, Offer one hymn — thrice happy, if it find Acceptance in His ear. Father, thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns, thou Didst weave this verdant roof.
54 psl. - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast, — The desert and illimitable air, — Lone wandering, but not lost, All day thy wings have fanned At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere ; Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
55 psl. - Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven Hath swallowed up thy form ; yet, on my heart Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart. He who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, Will lead my steps aright.
141 psl. - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan that moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon...
268 psl. - God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth ! Go, rock the little wood-bird in his nest, Curl the still waters, bright with stars, and rouse The wide old wood from his majestic rest, Summoning from the innumerable boughs The strange, deep harmonies that haunt his breast...
196 psl. - How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it, As poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips! Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it, Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips.
153 psl. - THE groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above them — ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems ; in the darkling wood, Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down, And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And supplication.