American Poems (1625-1892)Walter Cochrane Bronson University of Chicago Press, 1912 - 669 страница |
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Страница 396
... you . Tell ye jest the eend I ' ve come to Arter cipherin ' plaguy smart ... all on ' em the same . ' T aint by turnin ' out to hack folks You ' re agoin ' to git your right , Nor by lookin ' down on black folks Coz ... Spose the crows wun't ...
... you . Tell ye jest the eend I ' ve come to Arter cipherin ' plaguy smart ... all on ' em the same . ' T aint by turnin ' out to hack folks You ' re agoin ' to git your right , Nor by lookin ' down on black folks Coz ... Spose the crows wun't ...
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Abraham Davenport Acadian American ANNABEL LEE Arsaces Atlantic Monthly beauty behold bells beneath bird breath bright cloud dark dead dear death deep door doth dream earth Edgar Allan Poe edition Evangeline eyes face fair fear flowers forest friends gleam Graham's Magazine Grand-Pré grave green hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven Hiawatha hill Houghton Indian land laugh leaves light Littell's Living Age live look maiden moon morning mountain never Nevermore night Nokomis o'er Osawatomie pain poem poet poetry Ralph Waldo Emerson river rose round shade shadow shine shore silent sing Sir Launfal sleep smile snow soft song sorrow soul sound Southern Literary Messenger spirit stars stood stream sweet tears thee thine thou thought trees unto village voice vols waves wild wind wings wonder woods words ΙΟ
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Страница 175 - 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.
Страница 235 - Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies. Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer. Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice. And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares that infest the day Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.
Страница 205 - To Helen Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece, And the grandeur that was Rome. Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche How statue-like I see thee stand, The agate lamp within thy hand! Ah, Psyche, from the regions which Are Holy Land! Israfel And the angel...
Страница 499 - He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored ; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword: His truth is marching on. I have seen him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps; I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps: His day is marching on. I have read a fiery gospel, writ in...
Страница 405 - 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, 40 And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers...
Страница 215 - This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch...
Страница 550 - But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind. With tranquil restoration...
Страница 179 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Страница 215 - Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door, Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as "Nevermore.
Страница 175 - To be a brother to the insensible rock And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.