The Poetical Works of Henry W. Longfellow, Том 3

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B. Tauchnitz, 1863
 

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Страница 235 - BETWEEN the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day's occupations , That is known as the Children's Hour.
Страница 206 - OFTEN I think of the beautiful town That is seated by the sea ; Often in thought go up and down The pleasant streets of that dear- old town, And my youth comes back to me. And a verse of a Lapland song Is haunting my memory still : " A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.
Страница 16 - That rises after the sun goes down. It was one by the village clock, When he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, Gaze at him with a spectral glare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon. It was two by the village clock, When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
Страница 13 - LISTEN, my children, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five ; Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year.
Страница 34 - And heard the priests chant the Magnificat. And as he listened, o'er and o'er again Repeated, like a burden or refrain, He caught the words...
Страница 120 - Tis always morning somewhere, and above The awakening continents, from shore to shore, Somewhere the birds are singing evermore. "Think of your woods and orchards without birds ! Of empty nests that cling to boughs and beams As in an idiot's brain remembered words Hang empty mid the cobwebs of his dreams...
Страница 141 - If the great Captain of Plymouth is so very eager to wed me. Why does he not come himself, and take the trouble to woo me? If I am not worth the wooing, I surely am not worth the winning...
Страница 226 - Ah ! what would the world be to us If the children were no more? We should dread the desert behind us Worse than the dark before. What the leaves are to the forest, With light and air for food, Ere their sweet and tender juices Have been hardened into wood, — That to the world are children; Through them it feels the glow Of a brighter and sunnier climate Than reaches the trunks below.
Страница 138 - Open wide on her lap lay the well-worn psalm-book of Ainsworth, Printed in Amsterdam, the words and the music together, Rough-hewn, angular notes, like stones in the wall of a churchyard, Darkened and overhung by the running vine of the verses.
Страница 217 - WHENE'ER a noble deed is wrought, Whene'er is spoken a noble thought, Our hearts, in glad surprise, To higher levels rise. The tidal wave of deeper souls Into our inmost being rolls, And lifts us unawares Out of all meaner cares.

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