Poetry of America: Selections from One Hundred American Poets from 1776 to 1876G. Bell, 1878 - 387 oldal |
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1 - 5 találat összesen 20 találatból.
10. oldal
... living still dear ? Alas ! when I look , I find none of the last ! The present is barren , -let's drink to the past ! Come ! here's to the girl with a voice sweet and low , The all of fire and the bosom of snow , eye Who erewhile in the ...
... living still dear ? Alas ! when I look , I find none of the last ! The present is barren , -let's drink to the past ! Come ! here's to the girl with a voice sweet and low , The all of fire and the bosom of snow , eye Who erewhile in the ...
11. oldal
... living friends . WILLIAM MAXWELL . Born at Norfolk , Virginia , 1784 - died 1857 . TO A FAIR LADY . FAIREST ! mourn not for thy charms Circled by no lover's arms , While inferior belles you see Pick up husbands merrily . Sparrows , when ...
... living friends . WILLIAM MAXWELL . Born at Norfolk , Virginia , 1784 - died 1857 . TO A FAIR LADY . FAIREST ! mourn not for thy charms Circled by no lover's arms , While inferior belles you see Pick up husbands merrily . Sparrows , when ...
14. oldal
... living lights , That from your bold green heights Shall shine afar , Till they who name the name Of Freedom , tow'rd the flame Come , as the Magi came Tow'rd Bethlehem's Star . Gone are those great and good Who here in peril 14 POETRY ...
... living lights , That from your bold green heights Shall shine afar , Till they who name the name Of Freedom , tow'rd the flame Come , as the Magi came Tow'rd Bethlehem's Star . Gone are those great and good Who here in peril 14 POETRY ...
76. oldal
... living poems , And all of the rest are dead . CATAWBA WINE . THIS Song of mine Is a Song of the Vine , To be sung by the glowing embers Of wayside inns , When the rain begins To darken the drear Novembers . It is not a song Of the ...
... living poems , And all of the rest are dead . CATAWBA WINE . THIS Song of mine Is a Song of the Vine , To be sung by the glowing embers Of wayside inns , When the rain begins To darken the drear Novembers . It is not a song Of the ...
82. oldal
... living green remains , By the clear brook that shines along the lawn ; But the sear grass stands white o'er all the plains , And the bright flowers are gone . But these , these are thy charms , — Mild airs and temper'd light upon the ...
... living green remains , By the clear brook that shines along the lawn ; But the sear grass stands white o'er all the plains , And the bright flowers are gone . But these , these are thy charms , — Mild airs and temper'd light upon the ...
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Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
Annabel Lee April grace beauty bells beneath Betsy bird blood blow BOBOLINK Born Brahma brave breast breath breeze bright brow cloud cold dark dead death deep door dream earth Edition evermore eyes fall Fcap fill'd fire flowers FORCEYTHE WILLSON glory golden growing hair hand hath head hear heard heart Heathen Chinee heaven hill hour John kiss leaves light lips look look'd love is bold lover Maryland moon never night o'er Old Brown Osawatomie Brown pass'd PHOEBE CARY Pioneers play'd poems Post 8vo Rhocus rose round seem'd shine shore silent sing skald sleep smile snow soft song soul sound spirit Star-spangled Banner stars summer sweet SWEET oblivion tears tell thee thine thou thought to-day Toorners tree turn'd Twas unto vex'd voice waves weary ween whip-poor-will wild WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING wind wings
Népszerű szakaszok
23. oldal - gone, the abyss of heaven Hath swallow'd up thy form; yet on my heart Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart: He who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must
222. oldal - 1819— BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC* Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed^ the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword : His truth is marching on. Glory Glory
222. oldal - is marching on. Glory ! glory, hallelujah ? He hath sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat; He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat: O, be swift, my soul! to answer Him; be jubilant, my feet! Our God is marching on. Glory ! glory, hallelujah
5. oldal - 0! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave ? On that shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses
222. oldal - glory, hallelujah! His truth is marching on. I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps; I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps: His day is marching on. Glory ! glory, hallelujah
223. oldal - the beauty of the lilies Christ was born, across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me : As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free ! While God is marching on. Glory! glory, hallelujah
118. oldal - open'd wide the door : Darkness there, and nothing more ! Deep into that darkness peering, Long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal Ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, And the darkness gave no token, And the only word there spoken Was the whispered word—" Lenore !
120. oldal - What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, Gaunt and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore." This I sat engaged in guessing, But no syllable expressing To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now Burn'd into my bosom's core; This, and more, I sat divining, With my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining
222. oldal - seat: O, be swift, my soul! to answer Him; be jubilant, my feet! Our God is marching on. Glory ! glory, hallelujah ! In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born, across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me : As He died to make men holy,
22. oldal - fly In triumph o'er his closing eye. Flag of the free heart's hope and home, By angel hands to valour given; Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven. For ever float that standard sheet! Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath our feet,