The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth LongfellowRoutledge, Warne, and Routledge, 1860 - 417 страници |
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Страница 12
... side fell and perished , Weary with the march of life ! They , the holy ones and weakly , Who the cross of suffering bore , Folded their pale hands so meekly , Spake with us on earth no more ! And with them the Being Beauteous , Who ...
... side fell and perished , Weary with the march of life ! They , the holy ones and weakly , Who the cross of suffering bore , Folded their pale hands so meekly , Spake with us on earth no more ! And with them the Being Beauteous , Who ...
Страница 22
... side . Alas ! how changed from the fair scene , When birds sang out their mellow lay , And winds were soft , and woods were green , And the song ceased not with the day . But still wild music is abroad , Pale , desert woods ! within ...
... side . Alas ! how changed from the fair scene , When birds sang out their mellow lay , And winds were soft , and woods were green , And the song ceased not with the day . But still wild music is abroad , Pale , desert woods ! within ...
Страница 24
... side by side , And see themselves below . Sweet April ! -many a thought Is wedded unto thee , as hearts are wed ; Nor shall they fail , till , to its autumn brought , Life's golden fruit is shed . AUTUMN . WITH what a glory comes and ...
... side by side , And see themselves below . Sweet April ! -many a thought Is wedded unto thee , as hearts are wed ; Nor shall they fail , till , to its autumn brought , Life's golden fruit is shed . AUTUMN . WITH what a glory comes and ...
Страница 38
... Side by side The poor man and the son of pride Lie calm and still . COPLAS DE MANRIQUE . I will not here invoke the 38 TRANSLATIONS .
... Side by side The poor man and the son of pride Lie calm and still . COPLAS DE MANRIQUE . I will not here invoke the 38 TRANSLATIONS .
Страница 54
... sides of it , appeared I knew not what of white , and underneath , Little by little , there came forth another . THE CELESTIAL PILOT . My master yet had uttered not 54 TRANSLATIONS . THE CELESTIAL PILOT From Dante Purgatorio, II.
... sides of it , appeared I knew not what of white , and underneath , Little by little , there came forth another . THE CELESTIAL PILOT . My master yet had uttered not 54 TRANSLATIONS . THE CELESTIAL PILOT From Dante Purgatorio, II.
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Acadian angel answer arms beautiful behold BELFRY OF BRUGES beneath birds blossom bosom breath bride bright Bruges Captain clouds COPLAS DE MANRIQUE dark dead Death descended dost doth dream earth Evangeline eyes face fair father fear feet fire Flanders flowers forest GASPAR BECERRA gleam golden Grand-Pré grave Guy de Dampierre hand hast hear heard heart heaven holy HUMPHREY GILBERT John Alden JORGE MANRIQUE JULIUS MOSEN land laugh leaves light lips look LOPE DE VEGA loud maiden meadows Miles Standish mist morning night o'er ocean passed Plymouth prayer Priscilla restless heart river rose round sail Sandalphon sang shadow ships shore silent singing slumber smile snow soft song sorrow soul sound spake spirit stands stars stood strong sweet tears Tharaw thee thou thought toil unto Victor Galbraith village voice walls wander wave weary wild wind words youth
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Страница 273 - It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in paradise ! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies ; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes. Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing, Onward through life he goes ; Each morning sees some task begun, Each evening sees it close ; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose.
Страница 237 - Then the Master, With a gesture of command, Waved his hand; And at the word, Loud and sudden there was heard, All around them and below, The sound of hammers, blow on blow, Knocking away the shores and spurs. And see! she stirs! She starts,— she moves,— she seems to feel The thrill of life along her keel, And, spurning with her foot the ground, With one exulting, joyous bound, She leaps into the ocean's arms!
Страница 246 - 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 ! The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead ; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted...
Страница 141 - The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, That my soul cannot resist; A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
Страница 151 - I SHOT an arrow into the air, It fell to earth I knew not where ; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where ; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song ! Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke ; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend.
Страница 273 - 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. My life is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary...
Страница 366 - Strange to me now are the forms I meet When I visit the dear old town; But the native air is pure and sweet, And the trees that o'ershadow each...
Страница 337 - We have not wings, we cannot soar ; But we have feet to scale and climb By slow degrees, by more and more, The cloudy summits of our time.
Страница 142 - Read from some humbler poet. Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the eyelids start ; Who through long days of labor, And nights devoid of ease, Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies.
Страница 151 - I breathed a song into the air, I i. fell to earth, I knew not where ; For who has sight so keen and strong. That it can follow the flight of song • Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke ; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend, SONNETS.