The Courtship of Miles Standish, and Other PoemsTicknor and Fields, 1859 - 215 страници |
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Страница 30
... sweet , the very type of Priscilla ! So I will take them to her ; to Priscilla the May - flower of Plymouth , Modest and simple and sweet , as a parting gift will I take them ; Breathing their silent farewells , as they fade and wither ...
... sweet , the very type of Priscilla ! So I will take them to her ; to Priscilla the May - flower of Plymouth , Modest and simple and sweet , as a parting gift will I take them ; Breathing their silent farewells , as they fade and wither ...
Страница 57
... Sweet is the smell of powder ; and thus I an- swer the challenge ! " Then from the rattlesnake's skin , with a sud- den , contemptuous gesture , Jerking the Indian arrows , he filled it with powder and bullets Full to the very jaws ...
... Sweet is the smell of powder ; and thus I an- swer the challenge ! " Then from the rattlesnake's skin , with a sud- den , contemptuous gesture , Jerking the Indian arrows , he filled it with powder and bullets Full to the very jaws ...
Страница 59
... a mile had they marched , when at length the village of Plymouth Woke from its sleep , and arose , intent on its Sweet was the air and soft ; and slowly the. manifold labors . the waters . THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH . 59.
... a mile had they marched , when at length the village of Plymouth Woke from its sleep , and arose , intent on its Sweet was the air and soft ; and slowly the. manifold labors . the waters . THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH . 59.
Страница 60
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Sweet was the air and soft ; and slowly the smoke from the chimneys Rose over roofs of thatch , and pointed steadily eastward ; Men came forth from the doors , and paused and talked of the weather , Said that ...
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Sweet was the air and soft ; and slowly the smoke from the chimneys Rose over roofs of thatch , and pointed steadily eastward ; Men came forth from the doors , and paused and talked of the weather , Said that ...
Страница 77
... sweet of the garden ! " " Ah , by these words , I can see , " again inter- rupted the maiden , " How very little you prize me , or care for what I am saying . When from the depths of my heart , in pain and with secret misgiving ...
... sweet of the garden ! " " Ah , by these words , I can see , " again inter- rupted the maiden , " How very little you prize me , or care for what I am saying . When from the depths of my heart , in pain and with secret misgiving ...
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38 cents 50 cents 63 cents 75 cents angels answered John Alden beautiful beheld boy's brave Wattawamat breath BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR Cæsar Captain of Plymouth CINQUE PORTS Cloth cloud Damascus dark dead death desert dreams Edition errand ESSAYS eyes face feel feet Flanders Flower forest friendship Garden of Eden Gleamed GOLDEN LEGEND graves hand haunted heard heart heaven Helgoland HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Indian Julius Cæsar land laughed LEGEND light long thoughts look Lord loud matchlock meadow Miles Standish mist night noble NOVEL o'er ocean OLIVER BASSELIN pause phantom Plates POEMS POETICAL Portrait prayer Priscilla Puritan maiden sail Sandalphon scabbard ships silent singing smile song sound spake speak spinning stood strange sunshine sweet swift Thereupon answered John thoughts of youth Vaud Victor Galbraith village voice vols walls wild wind wind's wonderful words youth are long
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Страница 197 - And nature, the old nurse, took The child upon her knee, Saying : "Here is a story-book Thy Father has written for thee." "Come, wander with me," she said, "Into regions yet untrod; And read what is still unread In the manuscripts of God." And he wandered away and away With Nature, the dear old nurse, Who sang to him night and day The rhymes of the universe. And whenever the way seemed long, Or his heart began to fail, She would sing a more wonderful song, Or tell a more marvelous tale.
Страница 125 - 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 169 - A boy's will is the, wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." And Deering's Woods are fresh and fair, And with joy that is almost pain My heart goes back to wander there, And among the dreams of the days that were, I find my lost youth again. And the strange and beautiful song, The groves are repeating it still : "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.
Страница 126 - The heights by great men reached and kept Were not attained by sudden flight, But they, while their companions slept, Were toiling upward in the night. Standing on what too long we bore With shoulders bent and downcast eyes, We may discern — unseen before — A path to higher destinies. Nor deem the irrevocable Past As wholly wasted, wholly vain, If, rising on its wrecks, at last To something nobler we attain.
Страница 195 - WIND came up out of the sea, And said, " O mists, make room for me." It hailed the ships, and cried, " Sail on, Ye mariners, the night is gone." And hurried landward far away, Crying, "Awake ! it is the day." It said unto the forest, " Shout ! Hang all your leafy banners out ! " It touched the wood-bird's folded wing, And said, "O bird, awake and sing.
Страница 165 - I remember the black wharves and the slips, And the sea-tides tossing free ; And Spanish sailors with bearded lips, And the beauty and mystery of the ships, And the magic of the sea. And the voice of that wayward song Is singing and saying still : " A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.
Страница 137 - Our little lives are kept in equipoise By opposite attractions and desires ; The struggle of the instinct that enjoys, And the more noble instinct that aspires.
Страница 198 - Or tell a more marvellous tale. So she keeps him still a child, And will not let him go, Though at times his heart beats wild For the beautiful Pays de Vaud; Though at times he hears in his dreams The Ranz des Vaches of old, And the rush of mountain streams From glaciers clear and cold; And the mother at home says, "Hark! For his voice I listen and yearn; It is growing late and dark, And my boy does not return!
Страница 177 - Happy he whom neither wealth nor fashion, Nor the march of the encroaching city, Drives an exile From the hearth of his ancestral homestead. We may build more splendid habitations, Fill our rooms with paintings and with sculptures, But we cannot Buy with gold the old associations...
Страница 201 - Come to me, O ye children ! And whisper in my ear What the birds and the winds are singing In your sunny atmosphere. For what are all our contrivings, And the wisdom of our books, When compared with your caresses, And the gladness of your looks 1 Ye are better than all the ballads That ever were sung or said ; For ye are living poems, And all the rest are dead.