The Human Voice: Its Anatomy, Physiology, Pathology, Therapeutics, and Training

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S. R. Wells, 1875 - 111 страници

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Страница 94 - In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people - ah, the people They that dwell up in the steeple...
Страница 92 - HEAR the sledges with the bells— Silver bells ! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night ! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
Страница 94 - All alone, And who tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone They are neither man nor woman They are neither brute nor human They are Ghouls: And their king it is who tolls; And he rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls A paean from the bells!
Страница 96 - Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good.
Страница 59 - Heaven itself that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man. Eternity ! thou pleasing, dreadful thought ! Through what variety of untried being, Through what new scenes and changes must we pass ! The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me ; But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it.
Страница 91 - thing of evil — prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore, Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore...
Страница 88 - Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore, — Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore : 'Tis the wind, and nothing more.
Страница 91 - Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend! " I shrieked, upstarting' "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore ! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken ! Leave my loneliness unbroken! quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
Страница 72 - Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening mild...
Страница 87 - This it is and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping; and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you.

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