Representative Poems of Living Poets: American and EnglishJeannette Leonard Gilder Cassell, 1886 - 683 Seiten |
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Seite 33
... and his head Drooped down so low that all his shining curls Poured on his breast , and veiled his countenance . Upon his easel a half - finished work , The secret labor of his studio , Said from the COUNTESS LAURA . 335.
... and his head Drooped down so low that all his shining curls Poured on his breast , and veiled his countenance . Upon his easel a half - finished work , The secret labor of his studio , Said from the COUNTESS LAURA . 335.
Seite 53
... shining , so peacefully , On the raging breast of him who poured His puny wrath at our gracious Lord . A while , with stubborn and wilful might , The artist strove to drive from his sight The kindly look of the starry trine ; Yet , THE ...
... shining , so peacefully , On the raging breast of him who poured His puny wrath at our gracious Lord . A while , with stubborn and wilful might , The artist strove to drive from his sight The kindly look of the starry trine ; Yet , THE ...
Seite 54
... shining three ; And the tears so magnified his gaze , That the face of heaven seemed all ablaze With light and mercy . He knew the stars That looked through his earthly dungeon - bars.- " I see , " he shouted , " ye live , ye live ...
... shining three ; And the tears so magnified his gaze , That the face of heaven seemed all ablaze With light and mercy . He knew the stars That looked through his earthly dungeon - bars.- " I see , " he shouted , " ye live , ye live ...
Seite 58
... shining face , And each were revolving in his head The words which a parting angel said : So that young Anselm came nigh to be A saint ere he put off mortality . Why he was not a bishop , at least , Or something more than a common ...
... shining face , And each were revolving in his head The words which a parting angel said : So that young Anselm came nigh to be A saint ere he put off mortality . Why he was not a bishop , at least , Or something more than a common ...
Seite 66
... —it is thy right , I know , — But spare the Imam for thy own soul's sake ! " Then I arrayed me in a robe of state Shining with gold and jewels ; and I bound In my long turban gems that might have bought The 66 GEORGE H. BOKER .
... —it is thy right , I know , — But spare the Imam for thy own soul's sake ! " Then I arrayed me in a robe of state Shining with gold and jewels ; and I bound In my long turban gems that might have bought The 66 GEORGE H. BOKER .
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Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
angels Arcady beauty beneath bird bloom blue brave breast breath bright brow CALIBAN UPON SETEBOS cast crown Christ Clive crimson night Dæmon dark dead dear death Dehu dream earth eyes face fair fear flowers gaze gleam glory God's gold golden gray grow half hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hills holy Joseph's tomb kiss knew Lahore laugh life's light lilies and violets lips LITTLE MURIEL live look Mind Freaks moon morning neath never night Njörd o'er once pain pale poets pray rose round Runjeet sang shadow silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit stand stars stood strong sweet tears tell tender thee things thou thought tree trembling Twas twixt voice wait wake wave wild arm wind wonder words
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 421 - And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries the 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, grasping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers...
Seite 325 - 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 421 - New occasions teach new duties ; Time makes ancient good uncouth ; They must upward still, and onward, who would keep abreast of Truth ; Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires ! we ourselves must Pilgrims be, Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the desperate winter sea, Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's blood-rusted key.
Seite 28 - And anon there breaks a sigh, And anon there drops a tear, From a sorrow-clouded eye, And a heart sorrow-laden, A long, long sigh; For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden And the gleam of her golden hair. Come away, away children; Come children, come down! The hoarse wind blows coldly; Lights shine in the town.
Seite 25 - Now the wild white horses play, Champ and chafe and toss in the spray. Children dear, let us away. This way, this way. Call her once before you go. Call once yet. In a voice that she will know : "Margaret! Margaret!
Seite 423 - Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown An' peeked in thru' the winder, An' there sot Huldy all alone, 'Ith no one nigh to hender. A fireplace filled the room's one side With half a cord o' wood in — There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died) To bake ye to a puddin'.
Seite 90 - And I know not if, save in this, such gift be allowed to man, That out of three sounds he frame, not a fourth sound, but a star.
Seite 610 - And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side ; But Sir Richard cried in his English pride, ' We have fought such a fight for a day and a night As may never be fought again! We have won great glory, my men ! And a day less or more At sea or ashore, We die — does it matter when?
Seite 328 - 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...
Seite 326 - Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, Child of the wandering sea, Cast from her lap forlorn! From thy dead lips a clearer note is born Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn! While on mine ear it rings, Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings: Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, As the swift seasons roll! Leave thy low-vaulted past! Let each new temple, nobler than the last, Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, Till thou at length art free, Leaving...