Відгуки відвідувачів - Написати рецензію
Не знайдено жодних рецензій.
Інші видання - Показати все
arms bear beauty beneath blood breast breath breeze bright brow cheek child clear dark dead death deep doth dreams dwell e'en earth face fair father fear flowers gaze gentle give glad glance glorious glory gone grave green grief hall hand hath head hear heard heart Heaven hope hour land leaves light lips live lone look meet midst mother night noble Note o'er once pale peace Procida proud Raim Raimond rest rich rose round scene shadow silent sleep smile soft song soul sound speak spirit stars step stood stream strong sweet sword tears tell thee thine things thou thou art Thou hast thoughts tone unto voice wave wild winds woods young youth
Сторінка 285 - And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
Сторінка 232 - THE stately homes of England ! How beautiful they stand, Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land ! The deer across their greensward bound, Through shade and sunny gleam ; And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream.
Сторінка 233 - Through glowing orchards forth they peep, Each from its nook of leaves, And fearless there the lowly sleep, As the bird beneath their eaves.
Сторінка 136 - I come, I come ! ye have called me long, I come o'er the mountains with light and song ; Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth, By the winds which tell of the violet's birth, By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass, By the green leaves opening as I pass.
Сторінка 170 - I have been with thee in thine hour Of glory and of bliss ; Doubt not its memory's living power To strengthen me through this! And thou, mine honoured love and true, Bear on, bear nobly on ! We have the blessed Heaven in view, Whose rest shall soon be won.
Сторінка 171 - The wind rose high — but with it rose Her voice, that he might hear : — Perchance that dark hour brought repose To happy bosoms near; While she sat striving with despair Beside his tortured form, And pouring her deep soul in prayer Forth on the rushing storm. She wiped the death-damps from his brow With her pale hands and soft, Whose touch upon the lute-chords low Had stilled his heart so oft.
Сторінка 137 - From the night-bird's lay, through the starry time, In the groves of the soft Hesperian clime, To the swan's wild note by the Iceland lakes, When the dark fir-branch into verdure breaks.
Сторінка 285 - Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame. Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear: — They shook the depths of the desert gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer. Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea: And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free!
Сторінка 306 - The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one ; He lies where pearls lie deep; He was the loved of all, yet none O'er his low bed may weep. One sleeps where southern vines are drest Above the noble slain ; He wrapt his colours round his breast On a blood-red field of Spain.
Сторінка 285 - Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea ; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free ! The ocean eagle soared From his nest by the white wave's foam, And the rocking pines of the forest roared, — This was their welcome home.