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arms beautiful bell better called child comes dark dead dear death deep door earth eyes face fall fathers fear feel fire forever Freedom gate gave give glory goes gone grave gray hair hand head hear heard heart heaven hill honor hope hour human John keep knew land laugh leave light lips live look master mean meet mind mother never night o'er once passed play poor rest rise river rose round seemed seen side soon soul sound speak spirit stand stood storm sweet tears tell thee there's thing thou thought tone took town tree turn Twas voice wait wave wife wild wind young
300. oldal - There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it: I have killed many: I have fully glutted my vengeance: for my country I rejoice at the beams of peace. But do not harbour a thought that mine is the joy of fear.
168. oldal - But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we— Of many far wiser than we— And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee...
140. oldal - And he shakes his feeble head, That it seems as if he said, "They are gone." The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has prest In their bloom, And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb.
241. oldal - And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wanton'd with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight; and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
92. oldal - We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow.
50. oldal - TO him who in the love of nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
62. oldal - Strike -till the last armed foe expires ; Strike — for your altars and your fires ; Strike — for the green graves of your sires ; God — and your native land...
62. oldal - An hour passed on — the Turk awoke; That bright dream was his last; He woke — to hear his sentries shriek, "To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek!
167. oldal - The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me; Yes! that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.