Poems, 2. kötet |
Részletek a könyvből
321. oldal
We spake of many a vanished scene , Of what we once had thought and said , Of what had been , and might have been , And who was changed , and who was dead ; And all that fills the hearts of friends , When first they feel , with secret ...
We spake of many a vanished scene , Of what we once had thought and said , Of what had been , and might have been , And who was changed , and who was dead ; And all that fills the hearts of friends , When first they feel , with secret ...
Mit mondanak mások - Írjon ismertetőt
Nem találtunk ismertetőket a szokott helyeken.
Tartalomjegyzék
3 | |
9 | |
15 | |
23 | |
29 | |
35 | |
51 | |
57 | |
256 | |
265 | |
271 | |
277 | |
285 | |
303 | |
314 | |
320 | |
327 | |
333 | |
339 | |
346 | |
356 | |
365 | |
371 | |
377 | |
379 | |
386 | |
395 | |
405 | |
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
angels answer arms beautiful bell beneath birds blind breath bright Carlos child close clouds comes Count dark dead Death door dreams earth Enter eyes face fair fall father fear feel feet fire flowers follow Gipsy girl give gleam gold golden grave hand hast head hear heard heart heaven holy hope hour King land Lara leaves light lives look maiden Master morning never night o'er once Padre pass play Pray prayer rain rest ring rise round sail Saint SCENE seemed shadows ships silent singing sleep soft song soul sound SPANISH speak stands star strange street sweet Take tell thee things thou thoughts trees unto Vict Victor Galbraith village voice wait walls wave wild wind window youth
Népszerű szakaszok
95. oldal - Last night, the moon had a golden ring, And to-night no moon we see!" The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe, And a scornful laugh laughed he.
292. oldal - Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small : Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all.
314. oldal - ... ,Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale ! In spite of rock and tempest's roar. In spite of false lights on the shore, Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee...
267. oldal - 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, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
328. oldal - Let us do our work as well, Both the unseen and the seen ; Make the house, where Gods may dwell, Beautiful, entire, and clean. Else our lives are incomplete, Standing in these walls of Time, Broken stairways, where the feet Stumble as they seek to climb. Build to-day, then, strong and sure, With a firm and ample base ; And ascending and secure Shall to-morrow find its place.
326. oldal - But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion, Clothed with celestial grace ; And beautiful with all the soul's expansion Shall we behold her face. And though at times impetuous with emotion And anguish long suppressed, The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean, That cannot be at rest, — We will be patient, and assuage the feeling We may not wholly stay ; By silence sanctifying, not concealing, The grief that must have way.
326. oldal - She is not dead, — the child of our affection, — But gone unto that school Where she no longer needs our poor protection, And Christ himself doth rule. In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, By guardian angels led, Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, She lives, whom we call dead.
144. oldal - BESIDE the ungathered rice he lay, His sickle in his hand; His breast was bare, his matted hair Was buried in the sand. Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep, He saw his Native Land.
10. oldal - 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.
96. oldal - Some ship in distress, that cannot live In such an angry sea ! " " O 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 to the skies, The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow On his fixed and glassy eyes.