PoemsJohn Camden Hotten, Piccadilly, 1868 - Всего страниц: 403 |
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Стр. viii
... English reading public may be prepared for a selection of Whitman's poems , and soon hereafter for a complete edition of them ? I trust this may prove to be the case . At any rate , it has been a great gratification to me to be ...
... English reading public may be prepared for a selection of Whitman's poems , and soon hereafter for a complete edition of them ? I trust this may prove to be the case . At any rate , it has been a great gratification to me to be ...
Стр. 1
... English readers on his own showing . Hitherto , such readers — except the small percentage of them to whom it has happened to come across the poems in some one of their American editions — have picked acquaintance with them only through ...
... English readers on his own showing . Hitherto , such readers — except the small percentage of them to whom it has happened to come across the poems in some one of their American editions — have picked acquaintance with them only through ...
Стр. 2
... English critics , no doubt , have been more discern- ing — as W. J. Fox , of old , in the Dispatch , the writer of the notice in the Leader , and of late two in the Pall Mall Gazette and the London Review ; * but these have been the ...
... English critics , no doubt , have been more discern- ing — as W. J. Fox , of old , in the Dispatch , the writer of the notice in the Leader , and of late two in the Pall Mall Gazette and the London Review ; * but these have been the ...
Стр. 11
... English by origin , had already been settled in this locality for five generations . His mother , named Louisa van Velsor , was of Dutch extraction , and came from Cold Spring , Queen's County , about three miles from West Hills . " A ...
... English by origin , had already been settled in this locality for five generations . His mother , named Louisa van Velsor , was of Dutch extraction , and came from Cold Spring , Queen's County , about three miles from West Hills . " A ...
Стр. 19
... English circulation . The copy so revised has reached me ( through the liberal and friendly hands of Mr. Conway ) after my selection had already been decided on ; and the few departures from the last printed text which might on ...
... English circulation . The copy so revised has reached me ( through the liberal and friendly hands of Mr. Conway ) after my selection had already been decided on ; and the few departures from the last printed text which might on ...
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Algernon Charles Swinburne American amid appears arms Artemus Ward beauty behold blood body brother chant Chastelard cloth coloured comrades crowd Crown 8vo curious dead dear death Democracy divine dream drums earth edition electric telegraph English eternal eyes face Fcap forms GEORGE CRUIKSHANK give greatest poet GUSTAVE DORÉ hand hear John Camden Hotten lands Leaves of Grass Libertad liberty little and large living look lovers Manhattan Mannahatta master morocco mother nations never night pass passion perfect persons Pioneers poems poet poetic poetry present race rest rich rise rivers sail shapes arise ships shores silent sing skald sleep soldiers song soul spirit stand stars strong sweet Swinburne Swinburne's things thought to-day toned paper vast voice volume wait walk Walt Whitman whoever WILLIAM MICHAEL ROSSETTI wind woman women woods words young
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Стр. 308 - Come lovely and soothing death, Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving, In the day, in the night, to all, to each, Sooner or later delicate death. Praised be the fathomless universe, For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious, And for love, sweet love — but praise! praise! praise! For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding death.
Стр. 311 - O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells: Rise up! for you the flag is flung — for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths — for you the shores a-crowding; For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning. Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck You've fallen cold and dead.
Стр. 311 - O Captain! My Captain! O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain!
Стр. 312 - My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will...
Стр. 234 - RECONCILIATION WORD over all, beautiful as the sky, Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage must in time be utterly lost, That the hands of the sisters Death and Night incessantly softly wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world; For my enemy is dead, a man divine as myself is dead, I look where he lies white-faced and still in the coffin — I draw near, Bend down and touch lightly with my lips the white face in the coffin.
Стр. 309 - Dark mother always gliding near with soft feet, Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome? Then I chant it for thee, I glorify thee above all, I bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come unfalteringly. Approach strong...
Стр. 239 - 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. 302 - With the tolling tolling bells' perpetual clang, Here, coffin that slowly passes, I give you my sprig of lilac. (Nor for you, for one alone, Blossoms and branches green to coffins all I bring, For fresh as the morning, thus would I chant a song for you O sane and sacred death. All over bouquets of roses...
Стр. 241 - The doubts of day-time and the doubts of night-time, the curious whether and how, Whether that which appears so is so, or is it all flashes and specks...
Стр. 300 - In the swamp in secluded recesses, A shy and hidden bird is warbling a song. Solitary the thrush, The hermit withdrawn to himself, avoiding the settlements, Sings by himself a song. Song of the bleeding throat, Death's outlet song of life, (for well dear brother I know, If thou wast not granted to sing thou would'st surely die...