American Literature: A Text-book for the Use of Schools and CollegesHeath, 1891 - 323 oldal |
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American literature appeared Artemus Ward artistic Atlantic Monthly beauty better Blithedale Romance born Boston career century character charm Civil Cotton Mather criticism death descriptions Emerson England English essays experience eyes feeling fiction Franklin French friends genius gives grace Grammar Hawthorne heart humor humorist imagination Indian intellect Irving John Julian Hawthorne language later less literary lived Longfellow magazine Margaret Fuller ment mind moral N. P. Willis narrative Nathaniel Hawthorne never notes and vocabulary novelist novels Paper passion patriotism period philosophy poems poet poetic poetry political productions prose published Puritan R. H. Dana reader romance Scarlet Letter seems sentiment Sir Launfal slavery soul spirit stories style success temperament thee things thought tion touch truth Uncle Remus vein verse volume writings written wrote York
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174. oldal - But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh.
108. oldal - There is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there ! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair...
199. oldal - Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart, Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart .. By the women of Marblehead...
65. oldal - Is a world of sweets and sours; Our flowers are merely — flowers, And the shadow of thy perfect bliss Is the sunshine of ours. If I could dwell Where Israfel Hath dwelt, and he where I, He might not sing so wildly well A mortal melody, While a bolder note than this might swell 50 From my lyre within the sky.
110. oldal - THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary ; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary.
111. 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 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.
33. oldal - ... by this compact was not made the exclusive or final judge of the extent of the powers delegated to itself; since that would have made its discretion, and not the constitution, the measure of its powers; but that as in all other cases of compact among parties having no common judge, each party has an equal right to judge for itself, as well of infractions as of the mode and measure of redress.
138. oldal - And when his hours are numbered, and the world Is all his own, retiring, as he were not, Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone, Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work, The frolic architecture of the snow.
173. oldal - Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky ; Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar ; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more ! Her deck, once red with heroes...
200. oldal - Sweetly along the Salem road Bloom of orchard and lilac showed. Little the wicked skipper knew Of the fields so green and the sky so blue.