The poetical works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, with a prefatory notice by E. Hope

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Страница 89 - Wearing her Norman cap, and her kirtle of blue, and the ear-rings, Brought in the olden times from France, and since, as an heirloom, Handed down from mother to child, through long generations. But a celestial brightness — a more ethereal beauty — Shone on her face and encircled her form, when, after confession, Homeward serenely she walked with God's benediction upon her. When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music.
Страница 47 - Last night, the moon had a golden ring, And to-night no moon we see ! ' The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe, And a scornful laugh laughed he.
Страница 78 - 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...
Страница 282 - You know the rest. In the books you have read, How the British Regulars fired and fled, — How the farmers gave them ball for ball, From behind each fence and farm-yard wall, Chasing the red-coats down the lane, Then crossing the fields to emerge again Under the trees at the turn of the road, And only pausing to fire and load.
Страница 49 - At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, A fisherman stood aghast, To see the form of a maiden fair, Lashed close to a drifting mast. ' The salt sea was frozen on her breast, The salt tears in her eyes; And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, On the billows fall and rise. Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, In the midnight and the snow I Christ save us all from a death like this. On the reef of Norman's Woe...
Страница 30 - From the cool cisterns of the midnight air My spirit drank repose ; The fountain of perpetual peace flows there, From those deep cisterns flows. O holy Night ! from thee I learn to bear What man has borne before : Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care, And they complain no more.
Страница 114 - Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted ; If it enrich not the heart, of another, its waters, returning Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment ; That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.
Страница 47 - Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds, That ope in the month of May.
Страница 61 - I STOOD on the bridge at midnight, As the clocks were striking the hour, And the moon rose o'er the city, Behind the dark church-tower. I saw her bright reflection In the waters under me, Like a golden goblet falling And sinking into the sea. And far in the hazy distance Of that lovely night in June, The blaze of the flaming furnace Gleamed redder than the moon.
Страница 63 - THE shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, A banner, with the strange device, Excelsior...

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