Poetical WorksHoughton Mifflin, 1886 |
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Сторінка 15
... , Underneath whose sloping eaves The shadows hardly move . Beneath some patriarchal tree I lay upon the ground ; His hoary arms uplifted he , And all the broad leaves over me Clapped their little hands in glee , With one continuous.
... , Underneath whose sloping eaves The shadows hardly move . Beneath some patriarchal tree I lay upon the ground ; His hoary arms uplifted he , And all the broad leaves over me Clapped their little hands in glee , With one continuous.
Сторінка 40
... beneath The battle - cloud's encircling wreath , Guard it , till our homes are free ! Guard it ! God will prosper thee ! In the dark and trying hour , In the breaking forth of power , In the rush of steeds and men , His right hand will ...
... beneath The battle - cloud's encircling wreath , Guard it , till our homes are free ! Guard it ! God will prosper thee ! In the dark and trying hour , In the breaking forth of power , In the rush of steeds and men , His right hand will ...
Сторінка 41
... beneath me ; bathed in light , They gathered mid - way round the wooded height , And , in their fading glory , shone Like hosts in battle overthrown , As many a pinnacle , with shifting glance , Through the gray mist thrust up its ...
... beneath me ; bathed in light , They gathered mid - way round the wooded height , And , in their fading glory , shone Like hosts in battle overthrown , As many a pinnacle , with shifting glance , Through the gray mist thrust up its ...
Сторінка 63
... beneath her bows , She drifted a dreary wreck , And a whooping billow swept the crew Like icicles from her deck . She struck where the white and fleecy waves Looked soft as carded wool , But the cruel rocks , they gored her side Like ...
... beneath her bows , She drifted a dreary wreck , And a whooping billow swept the crew Like icicles from her deck . She struck where the white and fleecy waves Looked soft as carded wool , But the cruel rocks , they gored her side Like ...
Сторінка 64
... beneath a horse - chestnut tree not far from his house in Cambridge . The tree was removed in 1876 , against the protests of Mr. Longfellow and others , on the ground that it imperilled drivers of heavy loads who passed under it . The ...
... beneath a horse - chestnut tree not far from his house in Cambridge . The tree was removed in 1876 , against the protests of Mr. Longfellow and others , on the ground that it imperilled drivers of heavy loads who passed under it . The ...
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Alcalá ancient autumn ballad Bart beautiful belfry Belfry of Bruges beneath blue breath bright Bruges burning Chispa clouds Count of Lara Cruz CRUZADO dance dark dead death deep diary Don Carlos dreams earth Euroclydon Excelsior Exeunt eyes fair fear flowers forever Forever never Ghent gleam gold golden Graham's Magazine green Guy de Dampierre Gypsy hand hast hear heard heart heaven HYPOLITO leaves light Line lips Longfellow look loud midnight Minnesinger Monk moon morning mountain never night Nuremberg o'er ocean passed poem poet Pray prayer Prec Preciosa ring rise river round sail Saint sang SCENE shadows ship silent silver singing Skeleton in Armor sleep soft song soul sound Spanish speak stands stanza star sweet tell thee thou art thought Timoneda tower trees Vict Victorian village voice volume wave wild wind window woods youth Нур
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Сторінка 22 - Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait.
Сторінка 66 - Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing. Onward through life he goes ; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close ; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose. Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught ! Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought ; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought I ENDYMION.
Сторінка 272 - ALL are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Time ; Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme. Nothing useless is, or low ; Each thing in its place is best ; And what seems but idle show Strengthens and supports the rest.
Сторінка 234 - 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, 1 knew not where ; For who has sight so keen and strong.
Сторінка 25 - When the hours of Day are numbered, And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight...
Сторінка 221 - 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...
Сторінка 20 - O holy Night ! from thee I learn to bear What man has borne before ! Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care, And they complain no more.
Сторінка 22 - I have nought that is fair?" saith he; "Have nought but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again." He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves.
Сторінка 23 - They are all gone into the world of light! And I alone sit lingering here ; Their very memory is fair and bright, And my sad thoughts doth clear; It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast, Like stars upon some gloomy grove, Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest After the sun's remove.
Сторінка 195 - THIS is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling, Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms ; But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing Startles the villages with strange alarms. Ah ! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary, When the death-angel touches those swift keys ! What loud lament and dismal Miserere Will mingle with their awful symphonies...