The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth LongfellowRoutledge, Warne, and Routledge, 1860 - 417 sider |
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Side 2
... meadow , lake , and stream . And dreams of that which cannot die , Bright visions , came to me , As lapped in thought I used to lie , And into the summer sky , gaze Where the sailing clouds went by , Like ships upon the sea ; PRELUDE ...
... meadow , lake , and stream . And dreams of that which cannot die , Bright visions , came to me , As lapped in thought I used to lie , And into the summer sky , gaze Where the sailing clouds went by , Like ships upon the sea ; PRELUDE ...
Side 14
... Spring's armorial bearing , And in Summer's green emblazoned field , But in arms of brave old Autumn's wearing , In the centre of his brazen shield ; כי FLOWERS . Not alone in meadows and green alleys 14 VOICES OF THE NIGHT .
... Spring's armorial bearing , And in Summer's green emblazoned field , But in arms of brave old Autumn's wearing , In the centre of his brazen shield ; כי FLOWERS . Not alone in meadows and green alleys 14 VOICES OF THE NIGHT .
Side 15
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, John Gilbert. כי FLOWERS . Not alone in meadows and green alleys , On the mountain - top , and by the brink Of sequestered pools in woodland valleys , Where the slaves of nature stoop to drink ; Not alone in ...
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, John Gilbert. כי FLOWERS . Not alone in meadows and green alleys , On the mountain - top , and by the brink Of sequestered pools in woodland valleys , Where the slaves of nature stoop to drink ; Not alone in ...
Side 53
... THE BROOK . FROM THE SPANISH . The soul of April , unto whom are born The. LAUGH of the mountain ! -lyre of bird and tree ! Pomp of the meadow ! mirror of the morn ! FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES D'ORLEANS . THE BROOK From the Spanish.
... THE BROOK . FROM THE SPANISH . The soul of April , unto whom are born The. LAUGH of the mountain ! -lyre of bird and tree ! Pomp of the meadow ! mirror of the morn ! FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES D'ORLEANS . THE BROOK From the Spanish.
Side 96
... meadow brook , the meadow brook , is mirror of thy falsehood ! It flows so long as falls the rain , In drought its springs soon dry again . The meadow brook , the meadow brook , is mirror of thy falsehood ! ANNIE OF THARAW . FROM THE ...
... meadow brook , the meadow brook , is mirror of thy falsehood ! It flows so long as falls the rain , In drought its springs soon dry again . The meadow brook , the meadow brook , is mirror of thy falsehood ! ANNIE OF THARAW . FROM THE ...
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Acadian angel answer arms beautiful behold BELFRY OF BRUGES beneath birds blossom bosom breath bride bright Bruges Captain clouds COPLAS DE MANRIQUE dark dead Death descended dost doth dream earth Evangeline eyes face fair father fear feet fire Flanders flowers forest GASPAR BECERRA gleam golden Grand-Pré grave Guy de Dampierre hand hast hear heard heart heaven holy HUMPHREY GILBERT John Alden JORGE MANRIQUE JULIUS MOSEN land laugh leaves light lips look LOPE DE VEGA loud maiden meadows Miles Standish mist morning night o'er ocean passed Plymouth prayer Priscilla restless heart river rose round sail Sandalphon sang shadow ships shore silent singing slumber smile snow soft song sorrow soul sound spake spirit stands stars stood strong sweet tears Tharaw thee thou thought toil unto Victor Galbraith village voice walls wander wave weary wild wind words youth
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Side 273 - It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in paradise ! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies ; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes. Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing, Onward through life he goes ; Each morning sees some task begun, Each evening sees it close ; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose.
Side 237 - Then the Master, With a gesture of command, Waved his hand; And at the word, Loud and sudden there was heard, All around them and below, The sound of hammers, blow on blow, Knocking away the shores and spurs. And see! she stirs! She starts,— she moves,— she seems to feel The thrill of life along her keel, And, spurning with her foot the ground, With one exulting, joyous bound, She leaps into the ocean's arms!
Side 246 - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended But one dead lamb is there ! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair ! The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead ; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted...
Side 141 - The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, That my soul cannot resist; A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
Side 151 - I SHOT an arrow into the air, It fell to earth I knew not where ; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where ; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song ! Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke ; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend.
Side 273 - THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary ; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary. My life is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary...
Side 366 - Strange to me now are the forms I meet When I visit the dear old town; But the native air is pure and sweet, And the trees that o'ershadow each...
Side 337 - We have not wings, we cannot soar ; But we have feet to scale and climb By slow degrees, by more and more, The cloudy summits of our time.
Side 142 - Read from some humbler poet. Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the eyelids start ; Who through long days of labor, And nights devoid of ease, Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies.
Side 151 - I breathed a song into the air, I i. fell to earth, I knew not where ; For who has sight so keen and strong. That it can follow the flight of song • Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke ; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend, SONNETS.