The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth LongfellowRoutledge, 1877 - 644 стор. |
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Acadian Angel answered Antiochus arrows art thou beautiful behold bell beneath Beth-horon birds Bons amis breath brooklet Chispa cloud cried Dacotahs dark dead death door dreams earth EPIMETHEUS Evangeline eyes face fair fear feet fire forest gleam gold golden Grand-Pré guests Gypsy hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven HEPHÆSTUS Hiawatha Judas Kenabeek King Olaf land Lara Laughing Water light listened look loud maiden meadow Miles Standish Mondamin moon morning mountains night Nokomis o'er Osseo Padre PANDORA passed Pau-Puk-Keewis paused pray prayer Prec PROMETHEUS river rose round rushing sails sang shadow shining ships Sigrid the Haughty silent singing Sirion sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spake stars stood sunshine sweet tale Tharaw thee thine thou art thought unto Vict village voice wait walls wampum wandered whispered wigwam wild wind words youth
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Сторінка 221 - The heights by great men reached and kept \ ¡ Were not attained by sudden flight, '. But they, while their companions slept, Were toiling upward in the night.
Сторінка 3 - In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife!
Сторінка 37 - 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.
Сторінка 130 - Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge, and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!
Сторінка 239 - A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet. That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light, The fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
Сторінка 3 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Сторінка 41 - There in the twilight cold and gray, Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay, And from the sky, serene and far, A voice fell, like a falling star, Excelsior!
Сторінка 130 - 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!
Сторінка 240 - It was two by the village clock When he came to the bridge in Concord town He heard the bleating of the flock, And the twitter of birds among the trees, And felt the breath of the morning breeze Blowing over the meadows brown.
Сторінка 94 - All are scattered now and fled, Some are married, some are dead; And when I ask, with throbs of pain, " Ah ! when shall they all meet again ? " As in the days long since gone by, The ancient timepiece makes reply, — " Forever — never ! Never — forever...