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" Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there ! And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years... "
The Wheat-sheaf, a Suggestive Reader: Containing Germs of Pure and Noble ... - Страница 199
по Elizabeth Nicholson - 1853 - 396 страници
Пълен достъп - Информация за книгата

The Popular Educator, Томове 1–2; Том 12

1867 - 964 страници
...? Woe there ever a bolder captaiii of a more valiant band ? Was thcra ever— but I scorn to boast. And what if thou shalt fall unnoticed by the living— and no fricnJ take note of thy departure ? Seest thou yon lonely cottage in the grove — with little gardca...

Specimens of the American Poets

1822 - 298 страници
...the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound Save his -own dashings — yet, the dead...So shalt thou rest — and what if thou shalt fall Unnotic'd by the living — and no friend Take note of thy departure ! All that breathe Will share...

The American First Class Book, Or, Exercises in Reading and Recitation

John Pierpont - 1823 - 492 страници
...the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, 22 * 2S8 THE AMERICAN (Lew<ra 11T. Save his own dashings — yet — the dead are there,...last sleep — the dead reign there alone. — So shall thou rest — and what if thou shalt fall Unnoticed by the living — and no friend Take note...

English Grammar: With an Improved Syntax. Part I. Comprehending at One View ...

John March Putnam - 1828 - 200 страници
...understood ; as, A period having arrived wh' it fifty jearsheiice, &c. Where roils the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings,— yet the dead are...their last sleep ; the dead reign there alone. So ihalt thou rest — and what if thou shalt fall Unnoticed by the living, and no friend Take note of...

The Edinburgh Literary Journal: Or, Weekly Register of Criticism and ..., Том 2

1829 - 516 страници
...thyself in the contiguous woods, Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound Save his own dashings— vet the dead are there ! And millions in those solitudes,...alone. So shalt thou rest ;— and what if thou shalt lull L'nnoticed by the living — and no friend Take note of thy departure?— all that breathe Will...

The Edinburgh Literary Journal: Or, Weekly Register of Criticism and ..., Том 2

1829 - 514 страници
...the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the contiguous woods, Where rolls the Oregnn, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead are...their last sleep— the dead reign there alone. So «halt thou rest;— aud what if thou shalt fell Unnoticed by the living— and no frieud Take note...

Specimens of American Poetry: With Critical and Biographical Notices ..., Том 3

Samuel Kettell - 1829 - 432 страници
...the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings—yet—the dead are there, And millions in those solitudes, since...of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep—the dead reign there alone.— So shalt thou rest—and what if thou shalt fall Unnoticed by...

The Edinburgh Literary Journal: Or, Weekly Register of Criticism and ..., Том 2

1829 - 520 страници
...the Barcnn desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the contiguous woods, Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there ! And millions in those solitudes, since (irst The flight of vcars began, have laid them down In their last sleep— the dead reign there alone....

Sermons, Том 1

Cornelius Roosevelt Duffie - 1829 - 444 страници
...that tread The globe, are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. ——Millions — since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep." From their graves a small still voice seems to convey this prophetic caution to our hearts : " So shalt...

Kettell, Samuel: Specimens of American Poetry...

1829 - 436 страници
...the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings— yet— the dead are there, And millions hi those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep...




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