Younger American Poets, 1830-1890Douglas Brooke Wheelton Sladen, Goodridge Bliss Roberts Griffith, Farran, Okeden & Welsh, 1891 - Всего страниц: 666 |
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Younger American Poets, 1830-1890 Douglas Brooke Wheelton Sladen,Goodridge Bliss Roberts Полный просмотр - 1891 |
Younger American Poets, 1830-1890 Douglas Brooke Wheelton Sladen,Goodridge Bliss Roberts Полный просмотр - 1891 |
Younger American Poets, 1830-1890 Douglas Brooke Wheelton Sladen,Goodridge Bliss Roberts Полный просмотр - 1891 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
Arcady Arlo Bates beauty birds bloom blow blue Blynken Born Boston brave breast breath bright cold dark dead dear death deep don'd doth DOUGLAS SLADEN dream earth eyes face fair feet fire flame flowers Furl George Frederick Cameron gleam glory gold golden grey Habersham hair hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven hills kind permission King kiss land laugh light lips live lonely look love's Margaret Deland marshes of Glynn moon morn N. P. Willis neath never night o'er passion poems given poems quoted poet rose round sail SENTINEL SONGS shadow shining shore Sidney Lanier sigh silence sing sinks low skies sleep smile soft song soul stars strong summer sweet Tarpeia tears tender thee thine things thou thought twas voice watch waves Whip-poor-will whisper wild wind wings wonder woods
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Стр. 141 - High o'er the hills of Habersham, Veiling the valleys of Hall, The hickory told me manifold Fair tales of shade, the poplar tall Wrought me her shadowy self to hold, The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine, Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign, Said, Pass not, so cold, these manifold Deep shades of the hills of Habersham, These glades in the valleys of Hall.
Стр. 275 - Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe — Sailed on a river of crystal light, Into a sea of dew. "Where are you going, and what do you wish?" The old moon asked the three. "We have come to fish for the herring fish That live in this beautiful sea; Nets of silver and gold have we!
Стр. 654 - Therefore if I know not the meaning of the voice, I shall be unto him that speaketh a barbarian ; and he that speaketh shall be a barbarian unto me.
Стр. 138 - Oh, what is abroad in the marsh and the terminal sea ? Somehow my soul seems suddenly free From the weighing of fate and the sad discussion of sin, By the length and the breadth and the sweep of the marshes of Glynn.
Стр. 138 - So: Affable live-oak, leaning low, — Thus — with your favor — soft, with a reverent hand, (Not lightly touching your person, Lord of the land!) Bending your beauty aside, with a step I stand On the firm-packed sand, Free By a world of marsh that borders a world of sea.
Стр. 78 - tis gory, Yet 'tis wreathed around with glory, And 'twill live in song and story Though its folds are in the dust! For its fame on brightest pages, Penned by poets and by sages, Shall go sounding down the ages — Furl its folds though now we must.
Стр. 141 - But oh, not the hills of Habersham, And oh, not the valleys of Hall Avail: I am fain for to water the plain. Downward the voices of Duty call — "Flow Gently, Sweet Afton " 1425 Downward, to toil and be mixed with the main.
Стр. 104 - A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes. A craven hung along the battle's edge, And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel — That blue blade that the king's son bears, — but this Blunt thing — !" he snapt and flung it from his hand, And lowering crept away and left the field.
Стр. 139 - And sight out of blindness and purity out of a stain. -'As the marsh-hen secretly builds on the watery sod, Behold I will build me a nest on the greatness of God : I will fly in the greatness of God as the marsh-hen flies In the freedom that fills all the space 'twixt the marsh and the skies : By so many roots as the marsh-grass sends in the sod I will heartily lay me a-hold on the greatness of God...
Стр. 78 - Banner — it is trailing! While around it sounds the wailing Of its people in their woe. For though conquered, they adore it! Love the cold dead hands that bore it! Weep for those who fell before it! Pardon those who trailed and tore it, But, Oh! wildly they deplore it Now who furl and fold it so.