Poems We LoveDodge Publishing Company, 1907 - 179 стор. |
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angels Auf wiedersehen beautiful Annabel Lee beneath birds blow born breast breath brow cloud cold crown dark dead dear death deep doth dreams earth Elizabeth Barrett Browning eyes Farewell flowers forever forget-lest we forget gazed giveth His beloved-sleep gleam God's gold golden grave gray hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven Heinrich Heine Henry Wadsworth Longfellow James Whitcomb Riley Joaquin Miller John John Anderson king kiss Lay him low Lest we forget-lest life's light lips live look Lord Byron Lord Tennyson love thee love's lover Mary moon morn ne'er never night o'er peace Philip PIPPA PASSES purple rain rest Ring round sail silent sing sleep smile snow soft song soul sound stars strife tears thine Thomas Hood thou art thought voice wake waves weary weep wiedersehen wild William Ernest Henley William Wordsworth Wind wings
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Сторінка 174 - Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere, Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear, Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there. All the earth and air With thy voice is loud, As, when night is bare, From one lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed.
Сторінка 82 - I chatter over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles. With many a curve my banks I fret By many a field and fallow, And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow. I chatter, chatter, as I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever. I wind about, and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout, And here and there a grayling...
Сторінка 73 - WHAT CONSTITUTES A STATE?" An Ode in Imitation of Alcaus WHAT constitutes a State? Not high-raised battlement or labored mound. Thick wall or moated gate ; Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned ; Not bays and broad-armed ports, Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride ; Not starred and spangled courts, Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride. No; men, high-minded men...
Сторінка 134 - How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
Сторінка 36 - And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
Сторінка 184 - Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow. We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow...
Сторінка 35 - The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; . And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Сторінка 9 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Сторінка 145 - They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow, Until at last the blanched mate said: "Why, now not even God would know Should I and all my men fall dead. These very winds forget their way, For God from these dread seas is gone. Now speak, brave Admiral, speak and say"— He said, "Sail on! sail on! and on!
Сторінка 177 - Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride, and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground! Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow, The world should listen then, as I am listening now.