An American Anthology, 1787-1900Edmund Clarence Stedman Classic Textbooks, 1901 - Всего страниц: 878 |
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Стр. 19
... thee to - day . Heaven bids thee come While yet there's room : Child of sin and sorrow ! Hear and obey . Child of sin and sorrow , Why wilt thou die ? Come whilst thou canst borrow Help from on high : Grieve not that love Which from ...
... thee to - day . Heaven bids thee come While yet there's room : Child of sin and sorrow ! Hear and obey . Child of sin and sorrow , Why wilt thou die ? Come whilst thou canst borrow Help from on high : Grieve not that love Which from ...
Стр. 28
... thee on my knee , my son ! And kissed thee laughing , kissed thee weeping ; But ah ! thy little day is done , Thou ' rt with thy angel sister sleeping . The staff , on which my years should lean , Is broken , ere those years come o'er ...
... thee on my knee , my son ! And kissed thee laughing , kissed thee weeping ; But ah ! thy little day is done , Thou ' rt with thy angel sister sleeping . The staff , on which my years should lean , Is broken , ere those years come o'er ...
Стр. 29
... thee ascends the spirit's prayer , Thou God of the immortal dead . All space is holy ; for all space Is filled by thee ; but human thought Burns clearer in some chosen place , Where thy own words of love are taught . Here be they taught ...
... thee ascends the spirit's prayer , Thou God of the immortal dead . All space is holy ; for all space Is filled by thee ; but human thought Burns clearer in some chosen place , Where thy own words of love are taught . Here be they taught ...
Стр. 33
... thee , of even the starry train ; For , all the host around thee burning , Like faithless man , keep turning , turning . I may not follow where they go : Star of the North , I look to thee While on I press ; for well I know Thy light ...
... thee , of even the starry train ; For , all the host around thee burning , Like faithless man , keep turning , turning . I may not follow where they go : Star of the North , I look to thee While on I press ; for well I know Thy light ...
Стр. 37
... thee there is no prouder grave , Even in her own proud clime . --- She wore no funeral - weeds for thee , Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume Like torn branch from death's leafless tree In sorrow's pomp and pageantry , The heartless ...
... thee there is no prouder grave , Even in her own proud clime . --- She wore no funeral - weeds for thee , Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume Like torn branch from death's leafless tree In sorrow's pomp and pageantry , The heartless ...
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Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
art thou Atlantic Monthly Auf wiedersehen beauty Ben Bolt beneath bird bloom blow blue brave breast breath bright brow cardinal bird child cloud cold dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth evermore eyes face fair fear feet flame flowers glory glow golden grace grass grave gray green hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven hills Joseph Rodman Drake Kingston Bridge kiss Kree land light lips live lonely look Lord lyre mighty moon morning neath never night o'er pass peace Poems poet rapture rose round sail shadows shine shore sigh silent sing skies sleep smile snow soft song Sonnets sorrow soul sound spirit stars summer sweet tears tell tempest thee thine things thou art thought tree verse voice wave weary wild wind wings wood York York City
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Стр. 17 - Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n-rescued land Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, And this be our motto— "In God is our trust.
Стр. 112 - Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act, — act in the living Present! Heart within, and God o'erhead! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us, Footprints on the sands of time; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again.
Стр. 150 - 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. 16 - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave! And where is that band who so vauntingly swore That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion, A home and a country should leave us no more? Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps
Стр. 112 - Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act, — act in the living...
Стр. 46 - WHEN Freedom from her mountain height Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there. She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies, And striped its pure celestial white With streakings of the morning light; Then from his mansion in the sun She called her eagle bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand The symbol of her chosen land.
Стр. 36 - And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, Bozzaris cheer his band. " Strike — till the last armed foe expires; Strike — for your altars and your fires ; Strike — for the green graves of your sires: GoD, and your native land!
Стр. 93 - ANNOUNCED by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, And veils the farm-house 'at the garden's end. The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
Стр. 204 - And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays; Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; Every clod feels a stir of might, An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers...
Стр. 232 - 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...