A Book of British and American Verse

Forside
Henry Van Dyke, Hardin Craig, Asa Don Dickinson
Doubleday, Page, 1922 - 1908 sider

Inni boken

Innhold

Nest
79
La Belle Dame Sans Merci
85
How They Brought the Good
130
Sir Patrick Spens
144
Ye Mariners of England
150
The Wreck of the Hesperus
156
Hervé Riel
162
The Battle of Otterburn
171
Boadicea
181
Hohenlinden
188
A Ballad of the French Fleet
203
Barbara Frietchie
210
Charge of the Light
217
Fair Helen of Kirconnell
233
The Wife of Ushers Well
240
The Braes of Yarrow
246
We are Seven
252
Proud Maisie
258
The Execution of Montrose
270
The Shameful Death
277
The Raven
285
Selections from the Later Poetry
293
The
299
Widdemer
311
Idyls
3
A King Lived Long
9
The Gardeners Daughter
17
Love Among the Ruins
28
The Cotters Saturday Night
40
The Sensitive Plant
54
The Eve of St Agnes
68
The Lake of the Dismal
83
The Building of the Ship
89
Darkness
102
Abou Ben Adhem
121
Rhacus
133
Arethusa
140
Kilmeny
151
The Pied Piper of Hamelin
163
Barham
179
ful James
234
Cowper
251
The Patriot
290
Mother and Poet
297
Lorraine
306
308
308
Tennyson
315
Brief Epics and Tales
326
E B Browning
ix
Introduction
3
Macdonald
8
The Night is Near Gone
11
When Daises Pied
18
Invocation
24
The Grasshopper
30
My Heart s in the High
36
Daybreak
46
The Midges Dance Aboon
52
My Star
58
To the Humblebee
64
The Whaups
70
79
79
The Bargain
87
Silvia
91
The Passionate Shepherd
97
CherryRipe
103
The Authors Resolution
110
To Dianeme
123
To Lucasta Going Beyond
129
Song
141
Mary Morison
147
Songs of Patriotism
192
To Lucasta on Going to
198
Cavalier Tunes
205
The American Flag
215
The Happy Heart
223
Hunting Song
230
The Bells of Shandon
238
Allingham
268
Harp of the North Fare
286
The Song of the Shirt
292
Sit Down Sad Soul
303
Douglas
310

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Populære avsnitt

Side 104 - UNION, strong and great! Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate! We know what Master laid thy keel, What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!
Side 194 - s not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come ; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Side 198 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Side 234 - Hear the sledges with the bells, Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells.' How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars, that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
Side 96 - I tripp'd lightly as they ; The innocent brightness of a new-born day Is lovely yet ; The clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality ; Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Side 202 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he, returning, chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
Side 293 - Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore ! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken ! Leave my loneliness unbroken! quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
Side 228 - If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England's, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home. And think, this heart, all evil shed away, A pulse in the eternal mind, no less Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given; Her sights and...
Side 216 - Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me? I have lived my life, and that which I have done May He within Himself make pure! but thou, If thou shouldst never see my face again, Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend?
Side 165 - Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow : You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell When the evening sun is low. And children coming home from school, Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor.

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