The Poets and Poetry of America: To the Middle of the Nineteenth CenturyA. Hart, 1852 - 550 стор. |
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Сторінка xxi
... arms to find its urne : Thus hath the heir to many thousands born Been in an instant from the mother torn : Even thus thine infant cheeks begin to pale , And thy supporters through great losses fail . This is the Prologue to thy future ...
... arms to find its urne : Thus hath the heir to many thousands born Been in an instant from the mother torn : Even thus thine infant cheeks begin to pale , And thy supporters through great losses fail . This is the Prologue to thy future ...
Сторінка xxii
... arms , Unbars the great artillery of heaven , And at the fatal signal by him given , The cloudy chariots threatening take the plains ; Drawn by wing'd steeds hard pressing on their reins . These vast battalions , in dire aspect raised ...
... arms , Unbars the great artillery of heaven , And at the fatal signal by him given , The cloudy chariots threatening take the plains ; Drawn by wing'd steeds hard pressing on their reins . These vast battalions , in dire aspect raised ...
Сторінка xxiii
... arms : And when imperfect accents show the dawn Of rising reason , and the future man , Sweetly she hears what fondly he returns , And by this fuel her affection burns . But when succeeding years have fix'd his growth , And sense and ...
... arms : And when imperfect accents show the dawn Of rising reason , and the future man , Sweetly she hears what fondly he returns , And by this fuel her affection burns . But when succeeding years have fix'd his growth , And sense and ...
Сторінка xxv
... arms , Hath Victory display'd her charms Amid the horrid pomp of war- Descend then , Peace , angelic maid , And smoothe BELLONA's haggard brow ; Haste to diffuse thy healing aid , Where'er implored by scenes of wo . Henceforth whoe'er ...
... arms , Hath Victory display'd her charms Amid the horrid pomp of war- Descend then , Peace , angelic maid , And smoothe BELLONA's haggard brow ; Haste to diffuse thy healing aid , Where'er implored by scenes of wo . Henceforth whoe'er ...
Сторінка xxvii
... arms restrain , And prostrate tyrants bite the British chain . JAMES ALLEN , the author of an " epic poem " entitled " Bunker Hill , " of which but a few fragments have been published , lived in the same period . The world lost nothing ...
... arms restrain , And prostrate tyrants bite the British chain . JAMES ALLEN , the author of an " epic poem " entitled " Bunker Hill , " of which but a few fragments have been published , lived in the same period . The world lost nothing ...
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Battle of Niagara beam beauty beneath bird bless blue born bosom breast breath breeze bright brow charm clouds cold Connecticut dark dead death deep dream earth fair fear feel flowers friends gaze gentle glorious glory glow grace grave green hand Harvard College hast hath hear heart heaven hills holy hour land leaves life's light lips living lonely look look'd lyre morning mountain muse Nashaway ne'er never night o'er pale pass'd Phi Beta Kappa poems poet prayer pride rapture rills Rio Bravo round SAM PATCH scene seem'd seraphs shade shadow shine shore sigh silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars storm stream sublime sweet swell tears tempest thee thine thou art thought throne tomb tree vex'd voice wave wild wind wings woods Yale College youth
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Сторінка 168 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ! Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Сторінка 319 - 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.
Сторінка 364 - AY, tear her tattered ensign down! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky; Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck, once red with heroes...
Сторінка 168 - At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near. And soon that toil shall end; Soon shalt thou find a summer home and rest, And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend Soon o'er thy sheltered nest.
Сторінка 420 - Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked, upstarting 'Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
Сторінка 160 - Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there ! And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep — the dead reign there alone.
Сторінка 419 - Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, — "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!
Сторінка 320 - This was the peasant's last Good-night, A voice replied, far up the height, Excelsior ! At break of day, as heavenward The pious monks of Saint Bernard Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, A voice cried through the startled air Excelsior ! A traveller, by the faithful hound, Half-buried in the snow was found, Still grasping in his hand of ice, That banner with the strange device Excelsior ! There in the twilight cold and gray, Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay, And from the sky, serene and far, A voice...
Сторінка 319 - It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes.
Сторінка 190 - WHEN Freedom from her mountain height Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there. She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies, And striped its pure celestial white With streakings of the morning light; Then from his mansion in the sun She called her eagle bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand The symbol of her chosen land.