A New Library of Poetry and Song, Volum 1Fords, Howard & Hulbert, 1877 |
Inni boken
Resultat 1-5 av 82
Side lix
... things of the past . If I have a carnation or two for Christmas , I think myself fortunate . You write as if I had nothing to do , in fulfilling your request , but to go out and gather under the hedges and by the brooks a bouquet of ...
... things of the past . If I have a carnation or two for Christmas , I think myself fortunate . You write as if I had nothing to do , in fulfilling your request , but to go out and gather under the hedges and by the brooks a bouquet of ...
Side lxi
... things in the language , and altogether free from the faults of style which deform his blank verse . " The lines are ... thing in Whittier . " " " He was not a man given to humorous turns , yet he was not deficient in the sense of the ...
... things in the language , and altogether free from the faults of style which deform his blank verse . " The lines are ... thing in Whittier . " " " He was not a man given to humorous turns , yet he was not deficient in the sense of the ...
Side lxiii
... things , and the hurrying tide of years that cover the past as with a flood of waters . In a vein that reminds us of Thanatopsis , ' the grand symphonic blank verse of which was published no less than sixty - one years ago , Mr. Bryant ...
... things , and the hurrying tide of years that cover the past as with a flood of waters . In a vein that reminds us of Thanatopsis , ' the grand symphonic blank verse of which was published no less than sixty - one years ago , Mr. Bryant ...
Side 9
... things , have less of this defect ; but even there the narrative is over- minute , and the personages , as Taine , the French critic , remarks , although they talk well , talk too much . The taste for this prolixity in narratives and ...
... things , have less of this defect ; but even there the narrative is over- minute , and the personages , as Taine , the French critic , remarks , although they talk well , talk too much . The taste for this prolixity in narratives and ...
Side 17
... things , no doubt ; Unwritten history ! Unfathomed mystery ! Yet he chuckles , and crows , and nods , and winks , As if his head were as full of kinks And curious riddles as any sphinx ! Warped by colic , and wet by tears , Punctured by ...
... things , no doubt ; Unwritten history ! Unfathomed mystery ! Yet he chuckles , and crows , and nods , and winks , As if his head were as full of kinks And curious riddles as any sphinx ! Warped by colic , and wet by tears , Punctured by ...
Andre utgaver - Vis alle
Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
ALFRED TENNYSON ALICE CARY angel beauty birds blessed bliss bosom boys breast breath bright brow Bryant cheek child cold dark dead dear death doth dream earth ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING eyes face fair father fear feet flowers forever gentle glory golden gone grace grave green hair hand happy hast hath hear heart heaven Heigh-ho hope hour JEAN INGELOW JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER kiss lero light lips live look Lord love thee love's lover maid morning mother ne'er never nevermore night o'er pain poems poet praise prayer ROBERT BURNS ROBERT HERRICK Robin Adair rose round SAMUEL LOVER shadows shine sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit stars sweet tears tell tender There's thine things THOMAS HOOD THOMAS MOORE thou art thought voice weary weep WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT wind words youth
Populære avsnitt
Side 49 - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
Side 425 - The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed— and gazed— but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.
Side 301 - T^EAR no more the heat o' the sun -*- Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages : Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe, and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust. Fear no more the...
Side 242 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Side 243 - Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's and truth's ; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
Side 324 - LEAD, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home — Lead Thou me on! Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene — one step enough for me.
Side 306 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn. Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Side 284 - Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves, Where, other groves and other streams along. With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Side 236 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket...
Side 236 - Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.