Poetical WorksHoughton Mifflin, 1886 |
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Сторінка 18
... eyes Are gates unto that Paradise ; Holy thoughts , like stars , arise ; Its clouds are angels ' wings . - " Learn , that henceforth thy song shall be , Not mountains capped with snow , Nor forests sounding like the sea , Nor rivers ...
... eyes Are gates unto that Paradise ; Holy thoughts , like stars , arise ; Its clouds are angels ' wings . - " Learn , that henceforth thy song shall be , Not mountains capped with snow , Nor forests sounding like the sea , Nor rivers ...
Сторінка 22
... eyes , The Reaper and the Flowers , a Psalm of Death . I have had an idea of this kind in my mind for a long time , without finding any expression for it in words . This morning it seemed to crystallize at once , without any effort of ...
... eyes , The Reaper and the Flowers , a Psalm of Death . I have had an idea of this kind in my mind for a long time , without finding any expression for it in words . This morning it seemed to crystallize at once , without any effort of ...
Сторінка 26
... the vacant chair beside me , Lays her gentle hand in mine . And she sits and gazes at me With those deep and tender eyes , Line 7. The beloved ones , the true - hearted , Like the stars , so still and saint - like 26 VOICES OF THE NIGHT.
... the vacant chair beside me , Lays her gentle hand in mine . And she sits and gazes at me With those deep and tender eyes , Line 7. The beloved ones , the true - hearted , Like the stars , so still and saint - like 26 VOICES OF THE NIGHT.
Сторінка 28
... eye of day , Tremulous leaves , with soft and silver lining , Buds that open only to decay ; Brilliant hopes , all woven in gorgeous tissues , Flaunting gayly in the golden light ... eyes with tears o'erflowing , Stand 28 VOICES OF THE NIGHT.
... eye of day , Tremulous leaves , with soft and silver lining , Buds that open only to decay ; Brilliant hopes , all woven in gorgeous tissues , Flaunting gayly in the golden light ... eyes with tears o'erflowing , Stand 28 VOICES OF THE NIGHT.
Сторінка 29
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Others , their blue eyes with tears o'erflowing , Stand like Ruth amid the golden corn ; Not alone in Spring's armorial bearing , And in Summer's green - emblazoned field , But in arms of brave old Autumn's ...
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Others , their blue eyes with tears o'erflowing , Stand like Ruth amid the golden corn ; Not alone in Spring's armorial bearing , And in Summer's green - emblazoned field , But in arms of brave old Autumn's ...
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Загальні терміни та фрази
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...