Choice of Choices [poems]M. Haddad, 1905 - 261 страници |
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Страница 25
... Hath not a leaf that danceth now ; The taller grass upon the hill , And spiders ' threads , are standing still ; The feathers dropp'd from moor - hen's wing , Which to the water's surface cling , Are steadfast , and as heavy seem As ...
... Hath not a leaf that danceth now ; The taller grass upon the hill , And spiders ' threads , are standing still ; The feathers dropp'd from moor - hen's wing , Which to the water's surface cling , Are steadfast , and as heavy seem As ...
Страница 33
... hath , or some release . Long use or time the storm away will turn , Else patience makes it better to be borne . Yea ; sorrow's low'ring days will come and go , As well as prosp'rous hours of sunshine do ; And when ' tis past , that ...
... hath , or some release . Long use or time the storm away will turn , Else patience makes it better to be borne . Yea ; sorrow's low'ring days will come and go , As well as prosp'rous hours of sunshine do ; And when ' tis past , that ...
Страница 40
... hath clad the hill , and eke the vale , The nightgale with feathers new she sings ; The turtle to her mate had told her tale . Summer is come , for every spray and springs ; The hart that hung his old head on the pale , The buck in ...
... hath clad the hill , and eke the vale , The nightgale with feathers new she sings ; The turtle to her mate had told her tale . Summer is come , for every spray and springs ; The hart that hung his old head on the pale , The buck in ...
Страница 45
... hath its own winged mariners to give it melody . Thou see'st their glittering fans outspread , all gleaming like red gold , And hark ! with shrill pipe musical , their merry course they hold . God bless them all , these little ones ...
... hath its own winged mariners to give it melody . Thou see'st their glittering fans outspread , all gleaming like red gold , And hark ! with shrill pipe musical , their merry course they hold . God bless them all , these little ones ...
Страница 48
... hath blown Adown the dell : And , lo ! what leaves are strown On yon grey stone And o'er the well ! Like human hopes they fall— Hopes born in spring , When Nature's cuckoo - call Wakes life in all And everything : Leaves matron Summer ...
... hath blown Adown the dell : And , lo ! what leaves are strown On yon grey stone And o'er the well ! Like human hopes they fall— Hopes born in spring , When Nature's cuckoo - call Wakes life in all And everything : Leaves matron Summer ...
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ancient ARMOUR AND COMPANY Austria-Hungary BAALBEK Baidar beam beautiful behold beneath birds blessed bloom blue BOSPHORUS bowers breath breeze bright brow calm CHICAGO clouds crazy town crowned Danish West Indies dark dead deep desert Dolma dome dream e'en earth fair flowers forest garden gaze gleam glorious glory glow gold golden green hand hath heart heaven hills hoary holy HOTEL GREEN hour Hungary islands isle Jerusalem kings KONAMI land leaves light LOUIS WORLD'S FAIR mighty minaret morning mountains Nature's night o'er palace peace plain proud purple rise river rocks rose round Royal scene Seville shade shadow shining shore silent skies SKUTARI sleep smile snow soft song soul Spain spring star-spangled banner stars stood storm stream sunset sweet swell tears thee thine thou throne towers trees voice walls waves wild winds wing woods
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Страница 66 - BRIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning, dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid; star of the east, the horizon adorning, guide where our infant Redeemer is laid. Cold on his cradle the dew-drops are shining; low lies his head with the beasts of the stall; angels adore him in slumber reclining, Maker and Monarch and Saviour of all.
Страница 50 - And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming ambrosial fruit Of vegetable gold; and next to Life, Our death, the Tree of Knowledge, grew fast by, Knowledge of good bought dear by knowing ill.
Страница 39 - The turtle to her mate hath told her tale. Summer is come, for every spray now springs: The hart hath hung his old head on the pale; The buck in brake his winter coat he flings ; The fishes flete with new repaired scale.
Страница 165 - But thou, of temples old, or altars new, Standest alone — with nothing like to thee — Worthiest of God, the holy and the true. Since Zion's desolation, when that He Forsook His former city, what could be, Of earthly structures, in His honour piled, Of a sublimer aspect? Majesty, Power, Glory, Strength, and Beauty, all are aisled In this eternal ark of worship undefiled.
Страница 32 - Shortening his journey between morn and noon, And hurrying him, impatient of his stay, Down to the rosy west ; but kindly still Compensating...
Страница 208 - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses?
Страница 208 - Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave; And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Страница 225 - THIS is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling, Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms ; But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing Startles the villages with strange alarms. Ah! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary, When the death-angel touches those swift keys ! What loud lament and dismal Miserere Will mingle with their awful symphonies ! I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus, The cries of agony, the endless groan, Which, through the ages that have gone before us, In long reverberations...
Страница 197 - BREATHES there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand...
Страница 173 - But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.