Poems of Henry Wadsworth LongfellowHoughton, Mifflin, 1880 - 417 psl. |
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Rezultatai 1–5 iš 77
xxiii psl.
... give them all back again . " He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes , He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves . " My Lord has need of these flowerets gay , " The Reaper said ...
... give them all back again . " He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes , He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves . " My Lord has need of these flowerets gay , " The Reaper said ...
xxiii psl.
... give them all back again . ” I give the first watch of the night To the red planet Mars . He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes , He kissed their drooping leaves ; The star of the unconquered will , It was for the Lord of Paradise ...
... give them all back again . ” I give the first watch of the night To the red planet Mars . He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes , He kissed their drooping leaves ; The star of the unconquered will , It was for the Lord of Paradise ...
7 psl.
... give him eloquent teachings . He shall so hear the solemn hymn that Death Has lifted up for all , that he shall go To his long resting - place without a tear . WOODS IN WINTER . WHEN winter winds are piercing chill , And through the ...
... give him eloquent teachings . He shall so hear the solemn hymn that Death Has lifted up for all , that he shall go To his long resting - place without a tear . WOODS IN WINTER . WHEN winter winds are piercing chill , And through the ...
14 psl.
... give Were life indeed ! Alas ! thy sorrows fall so fast , Our happiest hour is when at last The soul is freed . Our days are covered o'er with grief , And sorrows neither few nor brief Veil all in gloom ; Left desolate of real good ...
... give Were life indeed ! Alas ! thy sorrows fall so fast , Our happiest hour is when at last The soul is freed . Our days are covered o'er with grief , And sorrows neither few nor brief Veil all in gloom ; Left desolate of real good ...
20 psl.
... give me repose ! Sweet error ! he but slept , I breathe again ; O , Come , gentle dreams , the hour of sleep beguile ! when shall he , for whom I sigh in vain , Beside me watch to see thy waking smile ? THE GRAVE . FROM THE ANGLO ...
... give me repose ! Sweet error ! he but slept , I breathe again ; O , Come , gentle dreams , the hour of sleep beguile ! when shall he , for whom I sigh in vain , Beside me watch to see thy waking smile ? THE GRAVE . FROM THE ANGLO ...
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Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
The Poems of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1823-1866 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Visos knygos peržiūra - 1920 |
The Poems of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ; Complete in One Volume Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Visos knygos peržiūra - 1849 |
The Poems of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1823-1866 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Trumpų ištraukų rodinys - 1909 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Acadian Angel answered arrows beautiful behold beneath birds Bons amis breath brooklet Charlemagne Chibiabos cloud cried Dacotahs dark dead death door dreams earth Eginhard EPIMETHEUS eyes face fair father feet fire flowers forest gazed gleam golden guests hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven HEPHÆSTUS Hiawatha John Alden Kenabeek King Olaf Kwasind land Laughing Water leaves light listen look loud maiden meadow mighty Miles Standish Minnehaha mist Mondamin moon morning mountains Mudjekeewis night o'er old Nokomis Osseo PANDORA passed Pau-Puk-Keewis Prec river rose round rushing sails sang shadow shining ships Sigrid the Haughty silent singing sleep smile snow song Song of Hiawatha sorrow soul sound spake stars stood sunshine sweet tale Tharaw thee thou art thought unto Vict village voice wait walls wampum wander Wenonah whispered wigwam wild wind words youth
Populiarios ištraukos
xviii 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. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral...
77 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: The warrior's name would be a name abhorred!
38 psl. - EXCELSIOR. THE shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, Excelsior ! His brow was sad ; his eye beneath, Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, Excelsior...
87 psl. - And tonight I long for rest. Read from some humbler poet, Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the eyelids start; Who through long days of labor, And nights devoid of ease, Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies. Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer. Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty...
36 psl. - Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught ! Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought ; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought.
236 psl. - Blowing over the meadows brown. And one was safe and asleep in his bed Who at the bridge would be first to fall, Who that day would be lying dead, Pierced by a British musket-ball. You know the rest. In the books you have read, How the British Regulars fired and fled, — How the farmers gave them ball for ball, From behind each fence and farm-yard wall, Chasing the red-coats down the lane, Then crossing the fields to emerge again Under the trees at the turn of the road, And only pausing to fire...
126 psl. - 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!
212 psl. - The heights by great men reached and kept Were not. attained by sudden flight, But they, while their companions slept, Were toiling upward in the night.
xxiii psl. - The Reaper and the Flowers There is a Reaper whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between. "Shall I have nought that is fair?" saith he; "Have nought but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again.
38 psl. - Try not the Pass !" the old man said ; " Dark lowers the tempest overhead, The roaring torrent is deep and wide !" And loud that clarion voice replied Excelsior ! " 0 stay," the maiden said, "and rest Thy weary head upon this breast...