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The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Том 1
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Повний перегляд - 1901
The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Том 2
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Повний перегляд - 1856
Angel answered appeared beard beautiful bells beneath birds breath Brother called chamber church cloud coming cried dark dead death door dream ended eyes face fair fear feet fields fire forest gate gazed give gleamed gold guest hand hath head hear heard heart hour King Olaf land laughed leaves light Line listen live look Lord loud monk morning never night o'er Olaf's passed pause Poet poor Priest Queen rest rides ring rose round sails seemed seen shining ship side silent singing smiled snow song sound speak stand stood story street Student sweet sword tale tell Thangbrand thee things thou thought told town turned unto voice wait walked wall wide wind wonder wood
Сторінка 212 - SHIPS that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another, Only a look, and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.
Сторінка 29 - It was one by the village clock When he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, Gaze at him with a spectral glare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon. It was two by the village clock "When he came to the bridge in Concord town.
Сторінка 27 - In their night-encampment on the hill, Wrapped in silence so deep and still That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, The watchful night-wind, as it went Creeping along from tent to tent, And seeming to whisper, "All is well!
Сторінка 112 - Plato, anticipating the Reviewers, From his Republic banished without pity The Poets ; in this little town of yours, You put to death, by means of a Committee, The ballad-singers and the Troubadours, The street-musicians of the heavenly city. The birds, who make sweet music for us all In our dark hours, as David did for Saul.
Сторінка 113 - Think, every morning when the sun peeps through The dim, leaf-latticed windows of the grove, How jubilant the happy birds renew Their old, melodious madrigals of love ! And when you think of this, remember, too, 'Tis always morning somewhere, and above The awakening continents, from shore to shore, Somewhere the birds are singing evermore.
Сторінка 109 - The robin and the bluebird, piping loud, Filled all the blossoming orchards with their glee ; The sparrows chirped as if they still were proud Their race in Holy Writ should mentioned be ; And hungry crows, assembled in a crowd, Clamored their piteous prayer incessantly, Knowing who hears the ravens cry, and said : " Give us, O Lord, this day, our daily bread...
Сторінка 163 - Would the Vision there remain ? Would the Vision come again? Then a voice within his breast Whispered, audible and clear As if to the outward ear : " Do thy duty ; that is best ; Leave unto thy Lord the rest ! " Straightway to his feet he started, And with longing look intent On the Blessed Vision bent, Slowly from his cell departed, Slowly on his errand went. At the gate the poor were waiting, Looking through the iron grating, With that terror in the eye...
Сторінка 26 - ... If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower as a signal light, — One, if by land, and two, if by sea; And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm, For the country folk to be up and to arm.
Сторінка 49 - Deaf to King Robert's threats and cries and prayers, They thrust him from the hall and down the stairs ; A group of tittering pages ran before, And as they opened wide the...
Сторінка 29 - 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. And one was safe and asleep in his bed Who at the bridge would be first to fall, Who that day would be lying dead, Pierced by a British musket-ball. You know the rest. In the books you have read, How the British Regulars fired and fled, — How the farmers gave them ball for ball, From behind each fence and farm-yard wall, Chasing the red-coats down...