The Courtship of Miles Standish, and Other PoemsHttp://quod.lib.umich.edu/t/text/accesspolicy.html. |
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Страница 28
“ Must I relinquish it all , ” he cried with a wild lamentation , “ Must I relinquish it all , the joy , the hope , the illusion ? Was it for this I have loved , and waited , and worshipped in silence ? Was it for this I have followed ...
“ Must I relinquish it all , ” he cried with a wild lamentation , “ Must I relinquish it all , the joy , the hope , the illusion ? Was it for this I have loved , and waited , and worshipped in silence ? Was it for this I have followed ...
Страница 44
he exclaimed in his wild exultation , “ Welcome , 0 wind of the East , from the caves of the misty Atlantic ! Blowing o'er fields of dulse , and measureless meadows of sea - grass , Blowing o'er rocky wastes , and the grottos and ...
he exclaimed in his wild exultation , “ Welcome , 0 wind of the East , from the caves of the misty Atlantic ! Blowing o'er fields of dulse , and measureless meadows of sea - grass , Blowing o'er rocky wastes , and the grottos and ...
Страница 104
Piercing the heart of his friend had struck his own , and had sundered Once and for ever the bonds that held him bound as a captive , Wild with excess of sensation , the awful delight of his freedom , Mingled with pain and regret ...
Piercing the heart of his friend had struck his own , and had sundered Once and for ever the bonds that held him bound as a captive , Wild with excess of sensation , the awful delight of his freedom , Mingled with pain and regret ...
Страница 115
Mingled their odorous breath with the balm of the pine and the fir - tree , Wild and sweet as the clusters that grew in the valley of Eshcol . Like a picture it seemed of the primitive , pastoral ages , Fresh with the youth of the world ...
Mingled their odorous breath with the balm of the pine and the fir - tree , Wild and sweet as the clusters that grew in the valley of Eshcol . Like a picture it seemed of the primitive , pastoral ages , Fresh with the youth of the world ...
Страница 166
I remember the bulwarks by the shore , And the fort upon the hill ; The sun - rise gun , with its hollow roar , The drum - beat repeated o'er and o'er , And the bugle wild and shrill . And the music of that old song Throbs in my memory ...
I remember the bulwarks by the shore , And the fort upon the hill ; The sun - rise gun , with its hollow roar , The drum - beat repeated o'er and o'er , And the bugle wild and shrill . And the music of that old song Throbs in my memory ...
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50 cents 63 cents 75 cents angels anger answer battle beautiful boy's breath Captain Captain of Plymouth Close Cloth cloud coming dark dead death door dreams Edition England ESSAYS eyes face fair feel feet fields fire Flower forest friendship Gleamed graves hand haunted hear heard heart Indian ITALY John Alden land laughed leaves light living look Lord loud maiden Miles Standish mist morning never night noble NOVEL o'er ocean once passed Plates Plymouth POEMS POETICAL prayer Priscilla Puritan ready rose round sail seemed ships silent singing smile song sound spake speak standing stood STORIES strange street sweet talking things thoughts town turn Victor Galbraith village voice vols walls wild wind wind's women wonderful woods