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beach beauty beneath birds blue break breath breeze bright bring clear clouds comes dark dead dear deep dream earth eyes face fair fall feel feet fire flow gray green hand hath hear heard heart heaven hills hour keep king land leave lies light listen live look Michigan mighty moon morning mountains murmur never night o'er ocean once pass past peace rest rise river roar rock round sail sand secret seemed shining ship shore side sight silent sing skipper sleep soft song soul sound spirit stand stars storm stream summer sweet tell thee things thou thought tide touch tree turned voice wait watch waters waves wide wild wind wings woods
Seite 197 - The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks : The long day wanes : the slow moon climbs : the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Seite 131 - Sometimes a-dropping from the sky I heard the skylark sing; Sometimes all little birds that are, How they seemed to fill the sea and air With their sweet jargoning! "And now 'twas like all instruments, Now like a lonely flute ; And now it is an angel's song, That makes the Heavens be mute.
Seite 115 - 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 Lair.
Seite 173 - The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle.
Seite 114 - Even such a shell the universe itself Is to the ear of Faith ; and there are times, I doubt not, when to you it doth impart Authentic tidings of invisible things; Of ebb and flow, and ever-during power; And central peace, subsisting at the heart Of endless agitation.
Seite 159 - THE poetry of earth is never dead : When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead ; That is the Grasshopper's...
Seite 69 - O, well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay ! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But, O, for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.
Seite 112 - Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime, The image of Eternity, the throne Of the invisible,— even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.