The Living Authors of America: 1st serStringer and Townsend, 1850 - 365 стор. |
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Сторінка 85
... smile , a something of his mother Unbent the haughty arching of his lip , And through the darkness of the widow's heart Trembled a nerve of tenderness , that shook Her thought of pride all suddenly to tears . " It is a conclusive proof ...
... smile , a something of his mother Unbent the haughty arching of his lip , And through the darkness of the widow's heart Trembled a nerve of tenderness , that shook Her thought of pride all suddenly to tears . " It is a conclusive proof ...
Сторінка 86
... smile was like The incarnation of some blessed dream , Its joyousness so sunned the gazer's eye ! Fair were his locks : his snowy teeth divided A bow of love , drawn with a scarlet thread . His cheek was like the moist heart of the rose ...
... smile was like The incarnation of some blessed dream , Its joyousness so sunned the gazer's eye ! Fair were his locks : his snowy teeth divided A bow of love , drawn with a scarlet thread . His cheek was like the moist heart of the rose ...
Сторінка 93
... smile on me , While handing up thy sixpence through the hole Of that o'er - freighted omnibus ! —Ah , me ! — The world is full of meetings such as this ; A thrill - a voiceless challenge and reply , And sudden partings after - we may ...
... smile on me , While handing up thy sixpence through the hole Of that o'er - freighted omnibus ! —Ah , me ! — The world is full of meetings such as this ; A thrill - a voiceless challenge and reply , And sudden partings after - we may ...
Сторінка 111
... smile at the honest satisfaction , even enthusiasm , which lights up the national face when a few hundred troops file down Broadway , to discordant drums and squeaking fifes . But all their natural feeling and national pride stop here ...
... smile at the honest satisfaction , even enthusiasm , which lights up the national face when a few hundred troops file down Broadway , to discordant drums and squeaking fifes . But all their natural feeling and national pride stop here ...
Сторінка 139
... smile of content , thus answered Basil the black- smith , Taking with easy air the accustomed seat by the fireside . " The blacksmith comes to announce the arrival of a fleet from England with hostile intentions . The incredulity of the ...
... smile of content , thus answered Basil the black- smith , Taking with easy air the accustomed seat by the fireside . " The blacksmith comes to announce the arrival of a fleet from England with hostile intentions . The incredulity of the ...
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Acadian admiration Alnwick Castle American Annabel Lee beauty beneath breath Bryant Byron Cachuca Carmelite character charm Coleridge consider Cooper critic Dana dark death dramatist dream earth elaborate elegant Emerson England English evidence expression fact fair feel force genius George Sand give gondola grave Halleck hand hath heard heart heaven HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW human HYPOLITO intellect JARED SPARKS Kirkland lady land Leigh Hunt light lines living Longfellow look Margaret Fuller mind Miss Fuller monomania nation Natty Bumppo nature never o'er once opinion passion peculiar poem poet poet's poetical poetry Prescott present prose quote Ralph Waldo Emerson reader remarks romance scene seems Shakspeare singular smile soul sound spirit stanza style sure sweet thee things thou thought throw tion true truth verse voice Willis woman word Wordsworth writings
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Сторінка 115 - TO HELEN. Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
Сторінка 129 - But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you" — here I opened wide the door; Darkness there and nothing more.
Сторінка 84 - And marked the mild, angelic air, The rapture of repose that's there, The fixed yet tender traits that streak The languor of the placid cheek, And — but for that sad shrouded eye, That fires not, wins not, weeps not now, And but for that chill, changeless brow...
Сторінка 208 - THE groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above them — ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems ; in the darkling wood, Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down, And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And supplication.
Сторінка 126 - IT WAS many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of ANNABEL LEE; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.
Сторінка 228 - AT midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power ; In dreams, through camp and court, he bore The trophies of a conqueror ; In dreams his song of triumph heard. Then wore his monarch's signet ring, Then pressed that monarch's throne — a King ; As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden bird.
Сторінка 231 - ... when she fears For him the joy of her young years, Thinks of thy fate, and checks her tears; And she, the mother of thy boys, Though in her eye and faded cheek Is read the grief she will not speak, The memory of her buried joys, And even she who gave thee birth, Will, by their pilgrim-circled hearth, Talk of thy doom without a sigh; For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's: One of the few, the immortal names, That were not born to die.
Сторінка 127 - For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee...
Сторінка 127 - But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we Of many far wiser than we And neither the angels in Heaven above Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee...
Сторінка 156 - Sound needed none, Nor any voice of joy; his spirit drank The spectacle: sensation, soul, and form, All melted into him; they swallowed up His animal being ; in them did he live, And by them did he live; they were his life. In such access of mind, in such high hour Of visitation from the living God, Thought was not; in enjoyment it expired.