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arms bear beautiful bells beneath birds blow breast breath cloud comes crown dark dead death delight divine door dreams earth EPIMETHEUS eyes face fair fall feel feet fields fire fleet flow flowers follow friends gate Gods gold golden hand hast hath hear heard heart hour Italy King land leaves lies lifted light living Longfellow look loud March memory mist mountain mysterious Never night o'er once pain PANDORA passing past peace poem poet PROMETHEUS rest rise river round rush sail seems shadows shining ships shore silent singing sleep song soul sound stands stone stream street summer sweet thee thine things thou thought tide tower town turn unknown vanished voice wait walls wind wings wonderful write Written youth
Страница 65 - And Edith with golden hair. A whisper, and then a silence: Yet I know by their merry eyes They are plotting and planning together To take me by surprise. A sudden rush from the stairway, A sudden raid from the hall! By three doors left unguarded They enter my castle wall! They climb up into my turret O'er the arms and back of my chair; If I try to escape, they surround me; They seem to be everywhere.
Страница 58 - DAYBREAK. A 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 53 - Lo! in that house of misery A lady with a lamp I see Pass through the glimmering gloom, And flit from room to room. And slow, as in a dream of bliss, The speechless sufferer turns to kiss Her shadow, as it falls, Upon the darkening walls.
Страница 61 - 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? Ye are better than all the ballads That ever were sung or said ; For ye are living poems, And all the rest are dead.
Страница 52 - 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.
Страница 141 - I enter, and I see thee in the gloom Of the long aisles, O poet saturnine ! And strive to make my steps keep pace with thine. The air is filled with some unknown perfume ; The congregation of the dead make room For thee to pass ; the votive tapers shine ; Like rooks that haunt Ravenna's groves of pine The hovering echoes fly from tomb to tomb. From the confessionals I hear arise Rehearsals of forgotten tragedies, And lamentations from the crypts below ; And then a voice celestial that begins With...
Страница 61 - 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.
Страница 43 - A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." I remember the sea-fight far away, How it thundered o'er the tide! And the dead captains, as they lay In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay, Where they in battle died. 41 And the sound of that mournful song Goes through me with a thrill: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.
Страница 140 - OFT have I seen at some cathedral door A laborer, pausing in the dust and heat, Lay down his burden, and with reverent feet Enter, and cross himself, and on the floor Kneel to repeat his paternoster o'er; Far off the noises of the world retreat; The loud vociferations of the street Become an undistlnguishable roar.
Страница 34 - THE JEWISH CEMETERY AT NEWPORT. How strange it seems ! These Hebrews in their graves, Close by the street of this fair seaport town, Silent beside the never-silent waves, At rest in all this moving up and down ! The trees are white with dust, that o'er their sleep Wave their broad curtains in the south-wind's breath, While underneath such leafy tents they keep The long, mysterious Exodus of Death.