A Library of American Literature from the Earliest Settlement to the Present Time: Literature of the republic, pt. 3, 1835-1860Edmund Clarence Stedman, Ellen Mackay Hutchinson, Mrs. Ellen Mackay Hutchinson Cortissoz W. E. Benjamin, 1894 |
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... tell you , there was generous warmth in good old English cheer ; I tell you , ' twas a pleasant thought to bring its symbol here ; ' Tis but the fool that loves excess ; hast thou a drunken soul ? Thy bane is in thy shallow skull , not ...
... tell you , there was generous warmth in good old English cheer ; I tell you , ' twas a pleasant thought to bring its symbol here ; ' Tis but the fool that loves excess ; hast thou a drunken soul ? Thy bane is in thy shallow skull , not ...
Страница 21
... tell the truth , Deacon Soper , I rather guess he don't like the idee of dancin ' , and some of the other little arrangements . " " Well , " said the Deacon , " I know there's some condemns dancin ' . I've heerd a good deal of talk ...
... tell the truth , Deacon Soper , I rather guess he don't like the idee of dancin ' , and some of the other little arrangements . " " Well , " said the Deacon , " I know there's some condemns dancin ' . I've heerd a good deal of talk ...
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... tell all the famous old Madeiras from each other , " Eclipse , " " Juno , " the almost fabulously scarce and precious " White - top , " and the rest . He struck the nativity of the Mediterranean Madeira before it had fairly moistened ...
... tell all the famous old Madeiras from each other , " Eclipse , " " Juno , " the almost fabulously scarce and precious " White - top , " and the rest . He struck the nativity of the Mediterranean Madeira before it had fairly moistened ...
Страница 31
... tell , - One whose best was not over well ; Hard and dry , it must be confessed , Flat as a rose that has long been pressed ; Yet in her cheek the hues are bright , Dainty 1835-60 ] 31 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES . Dorothy.
... tell , - One whose best was not over well ; Hard and dry , it must be confessed , Flat as a rose that has long been pressed ; Yet in her cheek the hues are bright , Dainty 1835-60 ] 31 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES . Dorothy.
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... tell whether he was putting together a mosaic of colored fragments , or only turning a kaleidoscope where the pieces tumbled about as they best might . It was as if he had been look- ing in at a cosmic peep - show , and turning from it ...
... tell whether he was putting together a mosaic of colored fragments , or only turning a kaleidoscope where the pieces tumbled about as they best might . It was as if he had been look- ing in at a cosmic peep - show , and turning from it ...
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abolitionists asked beauty better BORN called Charles Sumner child Christian Christopher Pearse Cranch Church Colonel Deacon death DIED divine earth Europe eyes face faith father fear feel folks force FRANCES SARGENT OSGOOD friends genius give hand head hear heard heart heaven HORACE GREELEY hour Huldy human hundred intellectual Jack Cade James Henry Hammond Jefferson Davis JOHN WILLIAM DRAPER Kansas kind labor lady liberty light living look Mariamne Mas'r Mass mind moral mother nature never night nothin once party Peckham political poor round sail Saladin seemed Senator sing slave Slave Power slavery soul spirit Sprowle stand Stone Fleet stood sweet tell thee things thou thought tion took truth turned voice walked words wuzzled young
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Страница 3 - 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...
Страница 29 - 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 510 - O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain!
Страница 490 - 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 burnished rows of steel; "As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal; Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, Since God is marching on.
Страница 434 - THE snow had begun in the gloaming, And busily all the night Had been heaping field and highway With a silence deep and white. Every pine and fir and hemlock Wore ermine too dear for an earl, And the poorest twig on the elm-tree Was ridged inch deep with pearl.
Страница 548 - The muffled drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo; No more on life's parade shall meet That brave and fallen few. On Fame's eternal camping ground * Their silent tents are spread, And Glory guards, with solemn round, The bivouac of the dead.
Страница 502 - A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
Страница 503 - What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and children? They are alive and well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death...
Страница 415 - The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined being o'errun With the deluge of summer it receives; His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings; He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest, — In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best...
Страница 503 - I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul, The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me, The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into a new tongue.