Poetical Favorites, Yours and MineBobbs-Merrill, 1911 - 454 Seiten |
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Seite 9
... pain From the sick soul and the world - weary brain . Slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep ; - Rock me to sleep , mother , rock me to sleep ! Come , let your brown hair , just lighted with [ 9 ] POETICAL FAVORITES.
... pain From the sick soul and the world - weary brain . Slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep ; - Rock me to sleep , mother , rock me to sleep ! Come , let your brown hair , just lighted with [ 9 ] POETICAL FAVORITES.
Seite 12
... o'er the agony steal ? " Was the miracle greatest to find how deep , Beyond all dreams , sank downward that sleep ? " Did life roll backward its record , Dear , And show , as they say it does , past things clear ? " And was it the ...
... o'er the agony steal ? " Was the miracle greatest to find how deep , Beyond all dreams , sank downward that sleep ? " Did life roll backward its record , Dear , And show , as they say it does , past things clear ? " And was it the ...
Seite 37
... o'er them tenderly , As round the sleeping infant's feet We softly fold the cradle - sheet ; So plant we the apple - tree . What plant we in this apple - tree ? Buds , which the breath of summer days Shall lengthen into leafy sprays ...
... o'er them tenderly , As round the sleeping infant's feet We softly fold the cradle - sheet ; So plant we the apple - tree . What plant we in this apple - tree ? Buds , which the breath of summer days Shall lengthen into leafy sprays ...
Seite 43
... O'er meadows in their fresh array , Or autumn tints the glowing woods . For this chill season now again Brings in its annual rounds the morn When greatest of the sons of men , Our glorious Washington , was born . AULD LANG SYNE BY ...
... O'er meadows in their fresh array , Or autumn tints the glowing woods . For this chill season now again Brings in its annual rounds the morn When greatest of the sons of men , Our glorious Washington , was born . AULD LANG SYNE BY ...
Seite 45
... o'er me and my dearie ; For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary ! Wi ' mony a vow , and lock'd embrace , Our parting was fu ' tender ; And , pledging aft to meet again , We tore oursels asunder ; But , oh , fell ...
... o'er me and my dearie ; For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary ! Wi ' mony a vow , and lock'd embrace , Our parting was fu ' tender ; And , pledging aft to meet again , We tore oursels asunder ; But , oh , fell ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
ALFRED TENNYSON angels apple-tree auld lang syne beautiful bells beneath bird blessed blue Blynken brave break breast breath bright brow cold dark dead dear death door doth dream dying earth eyes face fair fathers feet flowers forever Gilpin glad glory grave grew hand hath hear heard heart heathen Chinee heaven HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Ivy green JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL JOHN GODFREY SAXE kiss Lady Clare land laugh light lips live look Lord Mary mother Nelly Gray never nevermore night o'er old Kentucky home Queen rest rose sang seems shine shore silence sing sleep smile song sorrow soul star-spangled banner stars sweet tears tell tender thee There's thine THOMAS HOOD thou thought to-night tree Twas Vere de Vere voice wait wave weary weep wild WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT wind word
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 38 - 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.
Seite 135 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn Or busy housewife ply her evening care: No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Seite 249 - ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore — While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. ' 'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, ' tapping at my chamber door — Only this and nothing more.
Seite 325 - THE BAREFOOT BOY. 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!
Seite 327 - A SIMPLE Child, That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage Girl: She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad: 10 Her eyes were fair, and very fair; — Her beauty made me glad. " Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be ? " " How many ? Seven in all," she said And wondering looked at me.
Seite 188 - Their blood has washed out their foul footstep's pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave...
Seite 189 - Beneath whose awful hand we hold Dominion over palm and pine — Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget — lest we forget! The tumult and the shouting dies — The Captains and the Kings depart — Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, An humble and a contrite heart.
Seite 134 - The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Seite 188 - O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave? On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Seite 257 - thing of evil — prophet still, if bird or devil ! By that Heaven that bends above us — by that God we both adore — Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore — Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore ?