American Poems (1625-1892)Walter Cochrane Bronson University of Chicago Press, 1912 - 669 страница |
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... sweet Consort from broken strings , Nor perfect beauty where's a main defect : My foolish , broken , blemish'd Muse so sings ; And this to mend , alas , no Art is able , ' Cause nature made it so irreparable . 155 1Ο 5 15 ΙΟ Nor can I ...
... sweet Consort from broken strings , Nor perfect beauty where's a main defect : My foolish , broken , blemish'd Muse so sings ; And this to mend , alas , no Art is able , ' Cause nature made it so irreparable . 155 1Ο 5 15 ΙΟ Nor can I ...
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... Sweet Spring , like man in his Minority , At present claim'd and had priority . 50 55 60 1650 . 5 With smiling face and garments somewhat green , She trim'd her locks which late had frosted been ; Nor hot nor cold she spake , but with a ...
... Sweet Spring , like man in his Minority , At present claim'd and had priority . 50 55 60 1650 . 5 With smiling face and garments somewhat green , She trim'd her locks which late had frosted been ; Nor hot nor cold she spake , but with a ...
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... sweet - tongu'd Philomel percht ore my head , And chanted forth a most melodious strain ; Which rapt me so with wonder and delight 180 I judg'd my hearing better then my sight , And wisht me wings with her a while to take my flight ...
... sweet - tongu'd Philomel percht ore my head , And chanted forth a most melodious strain ; Which rapt me so with wonder and delight 180 I judg'd my hearing better then my sight , And wisht me wings with her a while to take my flight ...
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... sweet airy legion . " Man at the best a creature frail and vain , In knowledg ignorant , in strength but weak , Subject to sorrows , losses , sickness , pain , 195 Each storm his state , his mind , his body break ; 200 From some of ...
... sweet airy legion . " Man at the best a creature frail and vain , In knowledg ignorant , in strength but weak , Subject to sorrows , losses , sickness , pain , 195 Each storm his state , his mind , his body break ; 200 From some of ...
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... sweet Quire of Saints and Seraphims . Lord , look on us here , clogg'd with sin and clay , And we , through Grace , shall be as happy as they . My Dearest , Inmost , Bosome - Friend is Gone ! Gone is my sweet Companion , Soul's delight ...
... sweet Quire of Saints and Seraphims . Lord , look on us here , clogg'd with sin and clay , And we , through Grace , shall be as happy as they . My Dearest , Inmost , Bosome - Friend is Gone ! Gone is my sweet Companion , Soul's delight ...
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Страница 507 - 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 211 - 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 381 - 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 hair.
Страница 221 - 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 558 - 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 220 - Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,— " Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, " art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore !" Quoth the Raven,
Страница 221 - 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 228 - 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 sea...
Страница 227 - Iron bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan.
Страница 507 - Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: 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.