The Poets of America: With Occasional NotesS. Andrus and son, 1847 - 405 psl. |
Knygos viduje
Rezultatai 1–5 iš 48
10 psl.
... Waking . The Spirit of Poetry . • Percival . 202 Percival . 204 Longfellow . 206 Incomprehensibility of God . Miss Elizabeth Townsend . 207 Lament of a Swiss Minstrel over the Ruins of Goldau . . . J. Neal . 209 Lines on visiting the ...
... Waking . The Spirit of Poetry . • Percival . 202 Percival . 204 Longfellow . 206 Incomprehensibility of God . Miss Elizabeth Townsend . 207 Lament of a Swiss Minstrel over the Ruins of Goldau . . . J. Neal . 209 Lines on visiting the ...
17 psl.
... bosom , rich and fair , Breathes freely its perfumes throughout the ambient air Wake , thou that sleepest in enchanted bowers , Lest 2 * A Sacred Melody Anonymous Active Christian Benevolence the Source of Happiness Carlos Wilcox.
... bosom , rich and fair , Breathes freely its perfumes throughout the ambient air Wake , thou that sleepest in enchanted bowers , Lest 2 * A Sacred Melody Anonymous Active Christian Benevolence the Source of Happiness Carlos Wilcox.
18 psl.
With Occasional Notes George Barrell Cheever. Wake , thou that sleepest in enchanted bowers , Lest these lost years should haunt thee on the night When death is waiting for thy numbered hours To take their swift and everlasting flight ; ...
With Occasional Notes George Barrell Cheever. Wake , thou that sleepest in enchanted bowers , Lest these lost years should haunt thee on the night When death is waiting for thy numbered hours To take their swift and everlasting flight ; ...
20 psl.
... wakes intenser life In the self - torturing spirit . Fool , give o'er ! Hast thou once been , yet think'st to be no more ? What ! life destroy itself ? O , idlest dream Shaped in that emptiest thing - a doubter's scheme . Think'st in a ...
... wakes intenser life In the self - torturing spirit . Fool , give o'er ! Hast thou once been , yet think'st to be no more ? What ! life destroy itself ? O , idlest dream Shaped in that emptiest thing - a doubter's scheme . Think'st in a ...
22 psl.
... wake ? To thee the falling leaf but fades to bear Its hues and odors to some fresher air ; Some passing sound floats by to yonder sphere , That softly answers to thy listening ear . In one eternal round they go and come ; And where they ...
... wake ? To thee the falling leaf but fades to bear Its hues and odors to some fresher air ; Some passing sound floats by to yonder sphere , That softly answers to thy listening ear . In one eternal round they go and come ; And where they ...
Turinys
17 | |
25 | |
30 | |
37 | |
43 | |
51 | |
61 | |
68 | |
70 | |
77 | |
83 | |
95 | |
102 | |
107 | |
113 | |
120 | |
133 | |
139 | |
142 | |
145 | |
162 | |
168 | |
175 | |
181 | |
191 | |
195 | |
197 | |
204 | |
207 | |
260 | |
269 | |
272 | |
281 | |
288 | |
300 | |
306 | |
314 | |
321 | |
327 | |
334 | |
340 | |
356 | |
363 | |
364 | |
375 | |
381 | |
388 | |
394 | |
400 | |
Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
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.