American PoetryPercy Holmes Boynton, Howard Mumford Jones, George Sherburn, Frank Martindale Webster C. Scribner's sons, 1918 - Всего страниц: 721 |
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Стр. 3
... Rose is wither'd , once so lovely fair . On neither tree did grow such Rose before , The greater was our gain , our loss the more . ANOTHER Here lyes the pride of Queens , Pattern of Kings , So blaze it Fame , here's feathers for thy ...
... Rose is wither'd , once so lovely fair . On neither tree did grow such Rose before , The greater was our gain , our loss the more . ANOTHER Here lyes the pride of Queens , Pattern of Kings , So blaze it Fame , here's feathers for thy ...
Стр. 22
... rose up early , sat up late , to know , As much as man , as tongues , as books could show ; I toil'd to search all Science and all Art , But dièd ignorant of mine own Heart . I got great Honour , and my Fame did stream , As far as doth ...
... rose up early , sat up late , to know , As much as man , as tongues , as books could show ; I toil'd to search all Science and all Art , But dièd ignorant of mine own Heart . I got great Honour , and my Fame did stream , As far as doth ...
Стр. 23
... Rose - buds , satiate thine eyes Glut every sense with her own vanities : Melt into pleasures , until that which Lust Did not before co [ n ] sume , rot into dust : The Thrones are set , the Books will strait be read , Hell will her ...
... Rose - buds , satiate thine eyes Glut every sense with her own vanities : Melt into pleasures , until that which Lust Did not before co [ n ] sume , rot into dust : The Thrones are set , the Books will strait be read , Hell will her ...
Стр. 39
... rose in airy flight ; Thence to the city chang'd , his way , And on a steeple chanc'd to light . Ye gods , he cry'd , what horrid pile Presumes to rear its head so high- This clumsy cornice - see how vile : Can this delight a critic's ...
... rose in airy flight ; Thence to the city chang'd , his way , And on a steeple chanc'd to light . Ye gods , he cry'd , what horrid pile Presumes to rear its head so high- This clumsy cornice - see how vile : Can this delight a critic's ...
Стр. 40
... rose Wise , generous and brave , He check'd the frenzy of her foes , His arm was strong to save . 40 50 60 70 " So near perfection , that he stood Upon the bound'ry line , Of infinite from finite good , Of human from divine . " Defeated ...
... rose Wise , generous and brave , He check'd the frenzy of her foes , His arm was strong to save . 40 50 60 70 " So near perfection , that he stood Upon the bound'ry line , Of infinite from finite good , Of human from divine . " Defeated ...
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American Poetry Percy Holmes Boynton,Howard Mumford Jones,George Sherburn,Frank Martindale Webster Полный просмотр - 1918 |
American Poetry Percy Holmes Boynton,Howard Mumford Jones,George Sherburn,Frank Martindale Webster Полный просмотр - 1918 |
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Anne Bradstreet arms Atlantic Monthly Auf wiedersehen beauty beneath birds brave breast breath bright Brown clouds dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth eyes face fair fear fight fire flame flowers forest friends gleam glory golden Graham's Magazine grave green hand hath hear heard heart heaven Hiawatha hills John Brown's body King land laugh leaves light live look Lord Maryland mighty Mondamin moon morning Muse never night Nokomis o'er Osawatomie Paul Hamilton Hayne peace Philip Freneau poem poet river round sail shade shadow shine shore Sigrid the Haughty silent sing Sir Launfal skies sleep smile snow song soul sound spirit stars stood strong sweet sword tell thee thet thine things thou thought trees verse voice W. D. Howells waves wigwam wild wind wings wonder woods words young youth
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Стр. 431 - Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.
Стр. 535 - Rise up— for you the flag is flung— for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon'd 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. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,...
Стр. 167 - Shalt thou retire alone — nor couldst thou wish Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down With patriarchs of the infant world, — with kings, The powerful of the earth, — the wise, the good, Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, — All in one mighty sepulchre.
Стр. 167 - To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language ; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
Стр. 234 - Hear the sledges with the bells — Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
Стр. 431 - Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, Child of the wandering sea, Cast from her lap, forlorn! From thy dead lips a clearer note is born Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn!
Стр. 330 - Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword : His truth is marching on.
Стр. 195 - May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes, I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods, Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook, To please the desert and the sluggish brook. The purple petals, fallen in the pool, Made the black water with their beauty gay; Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool, And court the flower that cheapens his array. Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why This charm is wasted on the earth and sky, Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing, Then Beauty is its...
Стр. 254 - BLESSINGS on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan ! With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes ; With thy red lip, redder still Kissed by strawberries on the hill ; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace ; From my heart I give thee joy, — I was once a barefoot boy ! Prince thou art, — the grown-up man Only is republican.
Стр. 235 - In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people - ah, the people They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who tolling, tolling...