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Сторінка 88
BESIDE the ungathered rice he lay , His sickle in his hand ; His breast was bare , his matted hair Was buried in the sand . Again , in the mist and shadow of sleep , He saw his Native Land . Wide through the landscape of his dreams The ...
BESIDE the ungathered rice he lay , His sickle in his hand ; His breast was bare , his matted hair Was buried in the sand . Again , in the mist and shadow of sleep , He saw his Native Land . Wide through the landscape of his dreams The ...
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ballad beautiful beneath breath bright called changed child Chispa close clouds comes Count Cruz dance dark dead death deep dreams earth Enter eyes face fair fall father fear feel fire flowers forever give gleam gold golden Graham's Magazine green Gypsy hand hast head hear heard heart heaven hope hour land Lara leaves light Line lips Longfellow look loud morning never night o'er once Padre passed play poem poet Pray Prec Preciosa published rest ring rise river round sail SCENE seemed shadows ship silent silver singing sleep soft song soul sound speak stand star strong sweet tell thee thou thou art thought trees Vict Victorian village voice volume walk wall wave wild wind window woods writes written youth
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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...
Бібліографічна інформація
| Назва | Poetical Works The Poetical Works, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
| Автор | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
| Видавець | Houghton, Mifflin, 1886 |
| Оригінал із | Мічиганський університет |
| Оцифровано | 23 трав. 2007 |
| Експортувати бібліографічний опис | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |