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" Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there ! And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep — the... "
English Grammar: With an Improved Syntax. Part I. Comprehending at One View ... - 168. oldal
szerző: John March Putnam - 1828 - 180 oldal
Teljes nézet - Információ erről a könyvről

The Inquirer, 1. kötet

1822 - 764 oldal
...morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous .woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet,...their last sleep — the dead reign there alone. So shall thou rest — and what if thou shall fall Unnotic'd by the living — and no friend Take note...

Specimens of the American Poets

1822 - 298 oldal
...morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound Save his -own dashings — yet,...their last sleep — the dead reign there alone. So shalt thou rest — and what if thou shalt fall Unnotic'd by the living — and no friend Take note...

The Wesleyan-Methodist Magazine

1857 - 1196 oldal
...wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods M'here rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings, — yet — the dead are there ! " We enter a city of antiquity, — memorable Syracuse or disinterred Pompeii, — through a street...

The American First Class Book, Or, Exercises in Reading and Recitation

John Pierpont - 1823 - 492 oldal
...the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, 22 * 2S8 THE AMERICAN (Lew<ra 11T. Save his own dashings — yet — the dead are there,...last sleep — the dead reign there alone. — So shall thou rest — and what if thou shalt fall Unnoticed by the living — and no friend Take note...

The Edinburgh Literary Journal: Or, Weekly Register of Criticism ..., 2. kötet

1829 - 514 oldal
...morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the contiguous woods, Where rolls the Oregnn, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the...their last sleep— the dead reign there alone. So «halt thou rest;— aud what if thou shalt fell Unnoticed by the living— and no frieud Take note...

The Edinburgh Literary Journal: Or, Weekly Register of Criticism ..., 2. kötet

1829 - 642 oldal
...thyself in the contiguous woods, Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound Save his own dash ings — yet the dead are there ! And millions in those solitudes,...their last sleep — the dead reign there alone. So shalt thou rest; — and what if thou shalt fall Unnoticed by the living — and no friend Take note...

The Edinburgh Literary Journal: Or, Weekly Register of Criticism ..., 2. kötet

1829 - 516 oldal
...thyself in the contiguous woods, Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound Save his own dashings— vet the dead are there ! And millions in those solitudes,...their last sleep— the dead reign there alone. So shalt thou rest ;— and what if thou shalt lull L'nnoticed by the living — and no friend Take note...

Specimens of American Poetry: With Critical and Biographical ..., 3. kötet

Samuel Kettell - 1829 - 432 oldal
...the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings—yet—the dead are there, And millions in those solitudes, since...of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep—the dead reign there alone.— So shalt thou rest—and what if thou shalt fall Unnoticed by...

The Edinburgh Literary Journal: Or, Weekly Register of Criticism ..., 2. kötet

1829 - 520 oldal
...momipg, and the Barcnn desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the contiguous woods, Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the...are there ! And millions in those solitudes, since (irst The flight of vcars began, have laid them down In their last sleep— the dead reign there alone....

Kettell, Samuel: Specimens of American Poetry...

1829 - 436 oldal
...morning — and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings— yet— the dead are there, And millions hi those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep...




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