A Library of American Literature from the Earliest Settlement to the Present Time: Literature of the republic, pt. 3, 1835-1860Edmund Clarence Stedman, Ellen Mackay Hutchinson, Mrs. Ellen Mackay Hutchinson Cortissoz W. E. Benjamin, 1894 |
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Стр. 12
... stood and stirred the posset with his sword , And all his sturdy men - at - arms were ranged about the board . He poured the fiery Hollands in , —the man that never feared , — He took a long and solemn draught , and wiped his yellow ...
... stood and stirred the posset with his sword , And all his sturdy men - at - arms were ranged about the board . He poured the fiery Hollands in , —the man that never feared , — He took a long and solemn draught , and wiped his yellow ...
Стр. 23
... stood at the head of the table ; and his example being followed first by the bold , then by the doubtful , and lastly by the timid , the clatter soon made the circuit of the tables . Some were shocked , however , as the Colonel had ...
... stood at the head of the table ; and his example being followed first by the bold , then by the doubtful , and lastly by the timid , the clatter soon made the circuit of the tables . Some were shocked , however , as the Colonel had ...
Стр. 63
... stood at night in the ruins of the Corsani Palace , looking out upon the places where the monks were chanting . That vision disappeared , and there arose in its stead the Temple of Jupiter . Could he look back upon the past , he would ...
... stood at night in the ruins of the Corsani Palace , looking out upon the places where the monks were chanting . That vision disappeared , and there arose in its stead the Temple of Jupiter . Could he look back upon the past , he would ...
Стр. 67
... stood the South American re- publics , planted by the best blood of the countrymen of Lope de Vega and Cervantes . They topple over so often that you could no more daguerreotype their crumbling fragments than you could the waves of the ...
... stood the South American re- publics , planted by the best blood of the countrymen of Lope de Vega and Cervantes . They topple over so often that you could no more daguerreotype their crumbling fragments than you could the waves of the ...
Стр. 99
... stood yet unfinished on his easel . When we returned home , he asked for a copy of Bryant , and read the " Thanatopsis , " and the " Hymn to the North Star " ; and as his mind . grew calmer under the influence of the poet he loved most ...
... stood yet unfinished on his easel . When we returned home , he asked for a copy of Bryant , and read the " Thanatopsis , " and the " Hymn to the North Star " ; and as his mind . grew calmer under the influence of the poet he loved most ...
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abolitionists asked beauty better BORN called Charles Sumner child Christian Christopher Pearse Cranch Church Colonel Deacon death DIED divine earth Europe eyes face faith father fear feel folks force FRANCES SARGENT OSGOOD friends genius give hand head hear heard heart heaven HORACE GREELEY hour Huldy human hundred intellectual Jack Cade James Henry Hammond Jefferson Davis JOHN WILLIAM DRAPER Kansas kind labor lady liberty light living look Mariamne Mas'r Mass mind moral mother nature never night nothin once party Peckham political poor round sail Saladin seemed Senator sing slave Slave Power slavery soul spirit Sprowle stand Stone Fleet stood sweet tell thee things thou thought tion took truth turned voice walked words wuzzled young
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Стр. 3 - AY, tear her tattered ensign down! -£^- Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky; Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar;— The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more! Her deck, once red with heroes...
Стр. 29 - This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, Sails the unshadowed main, — The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings, And coral reefs lie bare, Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.
Стр. 510 - 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. 490 - His truth is marching on. I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps; I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps His day is marching on. I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel; "As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal; Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, Since God is marching on.
Стр. 434 - THE snow had begun in the gloaming, And busily all the night Had been heaping field and highway With a silence deep and white. Every pine and fir and hemlock Wore ermine too dear for an earl, And the poorest twig on the elm-tree Was ridged inch deep with pearl.
Стр. 548 - The muffled drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo; No more on life's parade shall meet That brave and fallen few. On Fame's eternal camping ground * Their silent tents are spread, And Glory guards, with solemn round, The bivouac of the dead.
Стр. 502 - A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
Стр. 503 - What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and children? They are alive and well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death...
Стр. 415 - The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined being o'errun With the deluge of summer it receives; His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings; He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest, — In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best...
Стр. 503 - I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul, The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me, The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into a new tongue.