Poets of AmericaHoughton Mifflin, 1885 - Всего страниц: 516 |
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Стр. 7
... close and unintermitting , so that the raw ingredients of our national admixture are supplied quite as rapidly as the whirl and stir of the popular system can trit- urate and commingle them . It is too much , then , to expect that our ...
... close and unintermitting , so that the raw ingredients of our national admixture are supplied quite as rapidly as the whirl and stir of the popular system can trit- urate and commingle them . It is too much , then , to expect that our ...
Стр. 15
... close of the eighteenth , stu- pidly fashioned itself upon the models of worn - out schools , how should it do more in England's colo- nies , that brought hither certain shoots of taste and learning from the Old World , and found it hard.
... close of the eighteenth , stu- pidly fashioned itself upon the models of worn - out schools , how should it do more in England's colo- nies , that brought hither certain shoots of taste and learning from the Old World , and found it hard.
Стр. 28
... close National feeling . and musing observation , had a subject for poetic ex- pression in the landscape of the New World , by turns impressive , bewildering , reposeful , but always beauti- ful and strong . If its primeval aspect ...
... close National feeling . and musing observation , had a subject for poetic ex- pression in the landscape of the New World , by turns impressive , bewildering , reposeful , but always beauti- ful and strong . If its primeval aspect ...
Стр. 33
... close , when the different colo- Godfrey : nies began to move toward cohesion , the most of it seems to me night , — utter night . Its poetical relics period . are but the curios of a museum , the queer and ugly - specimens of an ...
... close , when the different colo- Godfrey : nies began to move toward cohesion , the most of it seems to me night , — utter night . Its poetical relics period . are but the curios of a museum , the queer and ugly - specimens of an ...
Стр. 36
... close of the Revolution , and until the War of 1812 , the genius of our people was devoted to the establishment , through peaceful labor , of the secu- rity and resources which should be the first - fruits of a conflict for independence ...
... close of the Revolution , and until the War of 1812 , the genius of our people was devoted to the establishment , through peaceful labor , of the secu- rity and resources which should be the first - fruits of a conflict for independence ...
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American anapestic artist ballads bard Bayard Taylor beauty blank-verse Bryant cæsura charm critical Deukalion didacticism distinct Divine Comedy dramatic early effort Emerson England English essays expression fancy feeling genius gift Goethe hand heart hexameter Holmes humor ideal idyl imagination instinct intellectual kind labor land learned Leaves of Grass less letters literary literature Longfellow Lowell Lowell's Margaret Fuller master measure melody ment method metrical modern mood muse native nature never original passion pieces Poe's poems poet poet's poetic poetry prose Puritan Quaker reader rhyme rience romance scarcely seemed sense sentiment song soul spirit stanzas style sure sweet taste Taylor Tennyson Thanatopsis theme Theocritus things thou thought tion torian touch traits translation true truth ture Ulalume verse voice Walt Whitman Whitman Whittier writers written youth
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Стр. 388 - THERE was a child went forth every day, And the first object he look'd upon, that object he became, And that object became part of him for the day or a certain part of the day, Or for many years or stretching cycles of years.
Стр. 355 - I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
Стр. 162 - The hand that rounded Peter's dome And groined the aisles of Christian Rome Wrought in a sad sincerity; Himself from God he could not free; He builded better than he knew; The conscious stone to beauty grew.
Стр. 243 - But lo, a stir is in the air! The wave — there is a movement there! As if the towers had thrust aside, In slightly sinking, the dull tide — As if their tops had feebly given A void within the filmy Heaven. The waves have now a redder glow — The hours are breathing faint and low — And when, amid no earthly moans, Down, down that town shall settle hence, Hell, rising from a thousand thrones, Shall do it reverence.
Стр. 167 - Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days, Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes, And marching single in an endless file. Bring diadems and fagots in their hands. To each they offer gifts after his will. Bread, kingdoms, stars, and sky that holds them all.
Стр. 118 - A hard, dull bitterness of cold, That checked, mid-vein, the circling race Of life-blood in the sharpened face, The coming of the snow-storm told. The wind blew east ; we heard the roar Of Ocean on his wintry shore, And felt the strong pulse throbbing there Beat with low rhythm our inland air.
Стр. 247 - Banners yellow, glorious, golden, On its roof did float and flow (This — all this — was in the olden Time long ago) And every gentle air that dallied, In that sweet day, Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, A winged odor went away.
Стр. 243 - Lo! Death has reared himself a throne In a strange city lying alone Far down within the dim West, Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best Have gone to their eternal rest. There shrines and palaces and towers (Time-eaten towers that tremble not!) Resemble nothing that is ours. Around, by lifting winds forgot, Resignedly beneath the sky The melancholy waters lie.
Стр. 167 - DAUGHTERS of Time, the hypocritic Days, Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes, And marching single in an endless file, Bring diadems and fagots in their hands. To each they offer gifts after his will, Bread, kingdoms, stars, and sky that holds them all. I, in my pleached garden, watched the pomp, Forgot my morning wishes, hastily Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day Turned and departed silent. I, too late, Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn.
Стр. 152 - For Nature beats in perfect tune, And rounds with rhyme her every rune, Whether she work in land or sea, Or hide underground her alchemy. Thou canst not wave thy staff in air, Or dip thy paddle in the lake, But it carves the bow of beauty there, And the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake.
Ссылки на эту книгу
Bibliographical Guide to the Study of the Literature of the U.S.A. Clarence Gohdes Недоступно для просмотра - 1970 |
Cosmic Optimism: A Study of the Interpretation of Evolution by American ... Frederick William Conner Просмотр фрагмента - 1973 |