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George Routledge and Sons, 1878 - 96 Seiten
 

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LibraryThing Review

Nutzerbericht  - scottjpearson - LibraryThing

I picked up this collection of Longfellow's poetry because I SHOULD know more about one of America's all-time greatest poets. I write poetry; I love dissecting poetry; I SHOULD know more about ... Vollständige Rezension lesen

LibraryThing Review

Nutzerbericht  - Luli81 - LibraryThing

A brief but complete compilation of poems to get to know Longfellow. I loved "The courtship of Miles Standish" and his nostalgic recollections of lost times and youth. Very sensitive and solemn, good to be aware of the earth beneath your feet. Vollständige Rezension lesen

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Seite 74 - BETWEEN the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day's occupations, That is known as the Children's Hour. I hear in the chamber above me The patter of little feet, The sound of a door that is opened, And voices soft and sweet.
Seite 45 - Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds, That ope in the month of May.
Seite 82 - When the hours of Day are numbered, And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight...
Seite 48 - I SHOT an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, 1 knew not where ; For who has sight so keen and strong.
Seite 40 - Wore the long Winter out ; Often our midnight shout Set the cocks crowing, As we the Berserk's tale Measured in cups of ale, Draining the oaken pail, Filled to o'erflowing. " Once as I told in glee Tales of the stormy sea, Soft eyes did gaze on me, Burning yet tender ; And as the white stars shine On the dark Norway pine, On that dark heart of mine Fell their soft splendor.
Seite 13 - THERE is a reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that, grow between.
Seite 39 - But when I older grew, Joining a corsair's crew, O'er the dark sea I flew With the marauders. Wild was the life we led; Many the souls that sped, Many the hearts that bled, By our stern orders.
Seite 62 - Try not the pass," the old man said : " Dark lowers the tempest overhead ; The roaring torrent is deep and wide!" And loud that clarion voice replied, Excelsior! "Oh, stay," the maiden said, "and rest Thy weary head upon this breast ! " A tear stood in his bright blue eye, But still he answered with a sigh, Excelsior!
Seite 56 - His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
Seite 61 - THE shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, Excelsior ! His brow was sad ; his eye beneath, Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, Excelsior!

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