Selections from American Poetry: With Special Reference to Poe, Longfellow, Lowell, and WhittierMargaret Sprague Carhart Macmillan Company, 1917 - 373 страница |
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Страница xvi
... Thou must , The youth replies , I can ! " James Russell Lowell was animated by a well - defined pur- pose which he described in the following lines : " It may be glorious to write Thoughts that make glad the two or three High souls like ...
... Thou must , The youth replies , I can ! " James Russell Lowell was animated by a well - defined pur- pose which he described in the following lines : " It may be glorious to write Thoughts that make glad the two or three High souls like ...
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... thou wast in thine infancy ? Thy strength , and stature , more thy years admire ; 15 Hath hundred winters past since thou wast born , Or B 1 SELECTIONS: ANNE BRADSTREET: Contemplation.
... thou wast in thine infancy ? Thy strength , and stature , more thy years admire ; 15 Hath hundred winters past since thou wast born , Or B 1 SELECTIONS: ANNE BRADSTREET: Contemplation.
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... thou wast born , Or thousand since thou breakest thy shell of horn ? If so , all these as naught Eternity doth scorn . * * * * * I heard the merry grasshopper then sing , The black - clad cricket bear a second part , They kept one tune ...
... thou wast born , Or thousand since thou breakest thy shell of horn ? If so , all these as naught Eternity doth scorn . * * * * * I heard the merry grasshopper then sing , The black - clad cricket bear a second part , They kept one tune ...
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... thou hast in store : This was their Song , their Cups among , the Evening before . Wallowing in all kind of sin , vile wretches lay secure : The best of men had scarcely then their Lamps kept in good ure . Virgins unwise , who through ...
... thou hast in store : This was their Song , their Cups among , the Evening before . Wallowing in all kind of sin , vile wretches lay secure : The best of men had scarcely then their Lamps kept in good ure . Virgins unwise , who through ...
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... THOU , born to sip the lake or spring , Or quaff the waters of the stream , Why hither come on vagrant wing ? Does Bacchus tempting seem , Did he for you this glass prepare ? Will I admit you to a share ? Did storms harass or foes ...
... THOU , born to sip the lake or spring , Or quaff the waters of the stream , Why hither come on vagrant wing ? Does Bacchus tempting seem , Did he for you this glass prepare ? Will I admit you to a share ? Did storms harass or foes ...
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Selections from American poetry, with special reference to Poe, Longfellow ... Various Ограничен приказ - 2022 |
Чести термини и фразе
Angel ANNABEL LEE band of brothers beauty bells beneath bird blue Bob-o'-link brave breath bright chamber door chee cloud dark dead death deep dream earth Excelsior eyes fair fairy fear fell flake flowers gleam glory golden green hand hath hear heard heart heaven hour Israfel JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE King Robert land laugh leaves Lenore light live Longfellow look loud midnight Minnesinger nest never Nevermore Newbury town night o'er old oaken bucket Paul Revere Pioneers place like Home poem poet poetry prayer Quoth the Raven rhyme river round sail Samuel Sewall Sandalphon shade shadow shalt shore silent sing Sir Launfal Skald smile snow song sorrow soul sound Spink spring star-spangled banner stars stone stream sweet tear thee there's no place thet thine things thou art thought throne TITMOUSE trees village voice wave wild wind wings wood word
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Страница 31 - Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun ; the vales Stretching in pensive quietness between ; The venerable woods — rivers that move In majesty, and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green ; and, poured round all, Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man.
Страница 100 - But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we, Of many far wiser than we ; And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
Страница 30 - When thoughts Of the last bitter hour come like a blight Over thy spirit, and sad images Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart ; — Go forth, under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings, while from all around — Earth and her waters, and the depths of air — Comes a still voice...
Страница 99 - I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea: But we loved with a love that was more than love — I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the...
Страница 91 - This it is and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you" — here I opened wide the door: — Darkness there and nothing more.
Страница 35 - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast — The desert and illimitable air — Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Страница 91 - Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Nameless here for evermore.
Страница 96 - And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor: And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted — nevermore...
Страница 118 - Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low.
Страница 92 - Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute...