The Magazine of Poetry and Literary Review, 6. kötetCharles Wells Moulton C.W. Moulton, 1894 |
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1 - 5 találat összesen 82 találatból.
10. oldal
... golden grain ; When loving hearts and friends are near , To chase away each brooding pain , Ah , still why heaves the lonely breast , Sighing for future years of rest , In hope that joys may meet it yet In the calm eve of life's sunset ...
... golden grain ; When loving hearts and friends are near , To chase away each brooding pain , Ah , still why heaves the lonely breast , Sighing for future years of rest , In hope that joys may meet it yet In the calm eve of life's sunset ...
11. oldal
... golden ring that's worn On this happy bridal morn , May it symbolize the union ye have made . THE TWO - FOLD MAY . THY merry welcome , rosy May , The wild birds all are sweetly singing , And every village heart to - day Is joyous where ...
... golden ring that's worn On this happy bridal morn , May it symbolize the union ye have made . THE TWO - FOLD MAY . THY merry welcome , rosy May , The wild birds all are sweetly singing , And every village heart to - day Is joyous where ...
18. oldal
... Golden fleece of Perseus , sun - kissed , I love on summer days to gaze at you . Far - off Cordilleras of the sky Stretch on through countless miles of airy space ; In the snowy depths of cloud on high I sometimes think I see a God ...
... Golden fleece of Perseus , sun - kissed , I love on summer days to gaze at you . Far - off Cordilleras of the sky Stretch on through countless miles of airy space ; In the snowy depths of cloud on high I sometimes think I see a God ...
23. oldal
... golden days ! I strolled where brooks ran minted ways , Where grass was deep and air was sweet , Where only whims ... golden hair And eyes of celestial blue ; She's sweet with a beauty rare ; She hath ringlets of golden hair- But for me ...
... golden days ! I strolled where brooks ran minted ways , Where grass was deep and air was sweet , Where only whims ... golden hair And eyes of celestial blue ; She's sweet with a beauty rare ; She hath ringlets of golden hair- But for me ...
27. oldal
... golden sunset glow , And flood of splendor , see , How , fairest of all the charming flowers that blow , Blooms here , for you and me , For and me , dear Mary , day and night , you This lovely lily , robed in pearly white . What ...
... golden sunset glow , And flood of splendor , see , How , fairest of all the charming flowers that blow , Blooms here , for you and me , For and me , dear Mary , day and night , you This lovely lily , robed in pearly white . What ...
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ALICE CARY Alma River beauty beneath birds bless bloom blossoms blue bobolink bombazine born Boston breast breath bright Buffalo dark dead dear death deep dream earth editor ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN eyes face fair father feet flowers FRANCES SARGENT OSGOOD gleam glow gold golden grief hand happy Harper's Magazine hath hear heart heaven hills hope hour JOHN GODFREY SAXE JOHN LAWRENCE SMITH JOSEPH COOK kiss land laugh life's light lips literary live lonely look MAGAZINE OF POETRY maiden morning mother neath never night o'er pain peace PHOEBE CARY poet published rest Rochester rose shadows shining shore sigh silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul stars summer sweet tears tender thee thine thou thought to-day Twas verse voice waves weary wild wind wings York
Népszerű szakaszok
304. oldal - Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall find me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate : I am the captain of my soul.
460. oldal - They fought — like brave men, long and well ; They piled that ground with Moslem slain ; They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, Bleeding at every vein. His few surviving comrades saw His smile when rang their proud hurrah, And the red field was won ; Then saw in death his eyelids close Calmly, as to a night's repose, Like flowers at set of sun.
291. oldal - WHY so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale? Why so dull and mute, young sinner?
512. oldal - And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he may — For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray — Press where ye see my white plume shine, amidst the ranks of war, And be your oriflamme, to-day, the helmet of Navarre.
514. oldal - Meanwhile the Tuscan army, Right glorious to behold, Came flashing back the noonday light, Rank behind rank, like surges bright Of a broad sea of gold. Four hundred trumpets sounded A peal of warlike glee, As that great host, with measured tread, And spears advanced, and ensigns spread, Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head, Where stood the dauntless Three. The Three stood calm and silent, And looked upon the foes, And a great shout of laughter From all the vanguard rose...
169. oldal - And his musket moulds in his hands. Time was when the little toy dog was new, And the soldier was passing fair; And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue Kissed them and put them there. "Now, don't you go till I come,
422. oldal - I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, And this Lord Ullin's daughter. — And fast before her father's men Three days we've fled together, For should he find us in the glen, My blood would stain the heather. His horsemen hard behind us ride ; Should they our...
476. oldal - I STROVE with none, for none was worth my strife; Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art; I warmed both hands before the fire of life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
463. oldal - How's my boy — my boy ? And unless you let me know I'll swear you are no sailor, Blue jacket or no, Brass buttons or no, sailor, Anchor and crown or no ! Sure his ship was the Jolly Briton — " Speak low, woman, speak low!" And why should I speak low, sailor, About my own boy John ? If I was loud as I am proud I'd sing him over the town ! Why should I speak low, sailor ?
511. oldal - Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance, Through thy cornfields green and sunny vines, O pleasant land of France ! And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters. As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy.