The Poets of America, Том 2John Keese S. Colman, 1842 - 326 страници |
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Страница 50
... dew - drops , when the Rides in her silver softness , and the world Is calm and brightly beautiful below . She was all mildness , and the melting tone MENTAL BEAUTY . Of her sweet voice thrilled me and Mental Beauty JAMES G PERCIVAL.
... dew - drops , when the Rides in her silver softness , and the world Is calm and brightly beautiful below . She was all mildness , and the melting tone MENTAL BEAUTY . Of her sweet voice thrilled me and Mental Beauty JAMES G PERCIVAL.
Страница 69
... tone - a word - a flower ! I heard thy voice - so gayly sweet— I could not choose to guess , The mouth that breath'd it wreath'd with smiles Of playful loveliness . It spoke to one whose tiny lips 70 TO MISS M To lisp thy name shall ...
... tone - a word - a flower ! I heard thy voice - so gayly sweet— I could not choose to guess , The mouth that breath'd it wreath'd with smiles Of playful loveliness . It spoke to one whose tiny lips 70 TO MISS M To lisp thy name shall ...
Страница 85
... tone Like that with which a mother mourns Her lost , her only one ? Pale faces gather round her , They marked the storm swell high That rends and wrecks the tossing soul , But their cold , blue eyes are dry . Pale faces gaze upon her ...
... tone Like that with which a mother mourns Her lost , her only one ? Pale faces gather round her , They marked the storm swell high That rends and wrecks the tossing soul , But their cold , blue eyes are dry . Pale faces gaze upon her ...
Страница 86
... tones that breat Her bosom's tenderness , Save when some quick emotion , The warm blood strongly sent , To revel in her olive - cheek So richly eloquent . I said Consumption smote her , And the healer's art was vain , But she was an ...
... tones that breat Her bosom's tenderness , Save when some quick emotion , The warm blood strongly sent , To revel in her olive - cheek So richly eloquent . I said Consumption smote her , And the healer's art was vain , But she was an ...
Страница 91
... arms and aspect stern- Thou of the deep low tone , For whose rich music gone , Kindred and friends alike may vainly yearn ? 92 OSCEOLA . Wo for the trusting hour ! Oh. Her branches waves , And the soft river laves BY WILLIAM O. B. PEABODY .
... arms and aspect stern- Thou of the deep low tone , For whose rich music gone , Kindred and friends alike may vainly yearn ? 92 OSCEOLA . Wo for the trusting hour ! Oh. Her branches waves , And the soft river laves BY WILLIAM O. B. PEABODY .
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ALBERT PIKE autumn beams beautiful beneath beneath the sky bird bless blest bloom bosom breast breath bright brow CARLOS WILCOX CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN chimes clouds dark deep dost doth dream e temple earth eternal FELICIA HEMANS flowers FRANCES SARGENT OSGOOD gaze gentle GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE glorious glory grave green hath hear heart heaven hills holy hour leaves life's light lingers lone look melody morning mountain mournful murmur Nature's neath night at sea NORTH BURIAL GROUND o'er pale passed rest roar roll round SCENE FROM HADAD shade shadows shine shore sing skies sleep slumbers smile soft solemn song soul sound spirit spring stars stream summer sunbeams sweet swelling tears thee thine Thou art thoughts throng tree trembling twilight URSA MAJOR vale voice Washington Allston waves weary wild winds wings woods youthful
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Страница 192 - The glory of Lebanon shall come unto thee, the fir tree, the pine tree and the box together, to beautify the place of my sanctuary; and 1 will make the place of my feet
Страница 179 - in this crowded air; I sometimes dream Angelic rays from thy pinions stream. Come then, ever, when daylight leaves The page I read, to my humble eaves, And wash thy breast in the hollow spout, And murmur thy low sweet music out! I hear and see Lessons of Heaven, sweet bird, in thee!
Страница 60 - have quenched Your ancient flames, and bid eternal night Rest on your spheres; and yet no tidings reach This distant planet. Messengers still come Laden with your far fire, and we may seem To see your lights still burning; while their blaze But hides the black wreck of extinguished realms, Where anarchy and darkness long have reigned.
Страница 181 - I gaze above—thy look is imaged there, I listen—and thy gentle tone Is on the air. Oh come, while here I press My brow upon thy grave—and, in those mild And thrilling tones of tenderness, Bless, bless thy child! Yes, bless thy weeping child, And o'er thine urn—religion's holiest shrine— Oh give his spirit
Страница 95 - HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. I have read, in some old marvellous tale, Some legend strange and vague, That a midnight host of spectres pale Beleaguered the walls of Prague. Beside the Moldau's rushing stream, With the wan moon overhead, There stood, as in an awful dream, The army of the dead. White as a sea-fog, landward bound, The spectral camp was seen, And, with a sorrowful, deep sound,
Страница 112 - of life shall sever. Remnant of days departed long, Emblem of plighted troth unbroken, Pledge of devoted faithfulness, Of heartfelt, holy love, the token— What varied feelings round it cling! For these, I like that ancient ring. THE MOON UPON THE SPIRE BY HANNAH F. GOULD. The full-orbed moon
Страница 242 - How great are his signs, and how mighty are his wonders; His kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and his dominion is from generation to generation."—Daniel.
Страница 47 - Yes, dear one, to the envied train Of those around thy homage pay; But wilt thou never kindly deign To think of him that's far away ? Thy form, thine eye, thine angel smile, For many years I may not see; But wilt thou not sometimes the while, My sister dear, remember me
Страница 233 - tis but the streak Of whirling snow;—the tempest's shriek— No human aid is near; Never again that form will meet Thy clasped embrace—those accents sweet Speak music to thine ear. Morn broke ;—away the clouds were chased, The sky was pure and bright, And on its blue, the branches traced
Страница 255 - Caught'st thou thy carol from Ottawa maid, Where, through the liquid fields of wild-rice plashing, Brushing the ears from off the burdened blade, Her birch canoe o'er some lone lake is flashing! Or did the reeds of some savannah south Detain thee, while thy northern flight pursuing, To place those melodies in thy sweet mouth,
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