An American Anthology, 1787-1900: Selections Illustrating the Editor's Critical Review of American Poetry in the Nineteenth CenturyEdmund Clarence Stedman Houghton, Mifflin, 1900 - 878 страница Added t.p., engraved. |
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Страница xxvii
... close at hand , have obtained beyond doubt . The rhythm of verse is less essayed than that of prose -now the vehicle of our most favored craftsmen . Already books are written to show how an evolution of the novel has succeeded to that ...
... close at hand , have obtained beyond doubt . The rhythm of verse is less essayed than that of prose -now the vehicle of our most favored craftsmen . Already books are written to show how an evolution of the novel has succeeded to that ...
Страница lxi
... CLOSE. Ernest McGalley AS THE DAY BREAKS . " MARK " A " RISE " GERONIMO AVE ! NERO IMPERATOR DUFFIELD OSBORNE 669 670 A NIGHT IN LESBOS 670 • . 670 GEORGE HORTON I FEAR NO POWER A WOMAN Katrina Trask WIELDS 670 BACCHYLIDES GEORGE MEASON ...
... CLOSE. Ernest McGalley AS THE DAY BREAKS . " MARK " A " RISE " GERONIMO AVE ! NERO IMPERATOR DUFFIELD OSBORNE 669 670 A NIGHT IN LESBOS 670 • . 670 GEORGE HORTON I FEAR NO POWER A WOMAN Katrina Trask WIELDS 670 BACCHYLIDES GEORGE MEASON ...
Страница lxii
... CLOSE OF THE CENTURY ( TYPICAL POETS AND POETRY OF THE FINAL YEARS ) 685 685 686 686 687 687 687 688 • 688 · 1688 689 689 690 690 690 • 690 691 691 691 692 692 692 692 692 710 · 710 . 710 710 € 710 711 711. His Majesty · A Little Dutch ...
... CLOSE OF THE CENTURY ( TYPICAL POETS AND POETRY OF THE FINAL YEARS ) 685 685 686 686 687 687 687 688 • 688 · 1688 689 689 690 690 690 • 690 691 691 691 692 692 692 692 692 710 · 710 . 710 710 € 710 711 711. His Majesty · A Little Dutch ...
Страница 5
... close of joy . With you , whom reason taught to think , I could for ages sit and drink ; But with the fool , the sot , the ass , I haste to take the parting glass . The luckless wight , that still delays His draught of joys to future ...
... close of joy . With you , whom reason taught to think , I could for ages sit and drink ; But with the fool , the sot , the ass , I haste to take the parting glass . The luckless wight , that still delays His draught of joys to future ...
Страница 26
... close . Had . Tamar ! I need thy love - more than thy love - Tam . Thy cheek is wet with tears - Nay , let us part — ' Tis late . I cannot , must not linger.- [ Breaks from him , and exit . Had . Loved and abhorred ! - Still , still ...
... close . Had . Tamar ! I need thy love - more than thy love - Tam . Thy cheek is wet with tears - Nay , let us part — ' Tis late . I cannot , must not linger.- [ Breaks from him , and exit . Had . Loved and abhorred ! - Still , still ...
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art thou Atlantic Monthly Auf wiedersehen beauty Ben Bolt beneath bird bloom blow blue brave breast breath bright brow cardinal bird child cloud dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth evermore eyes face fair fear feet flame flowers glory glow golden grass grave gray green hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven hills JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE Kingston Bridge kiss Kree land light lips live lonely look Lord lyre mighty moon morning neath never night o'er pass peace Poems poet rapture rose round sail shadows shine shore sigh silent sing skies sleep smile snow soft song Sonnets sorrow soul sound spirit stars strong summer sweet tears tell tempest thee thine things thou art thought tree verse voice W. D. Howells wave wild wind wings wood
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Страница 141 - thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil! Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted — On this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore: Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me — tell me, I implore!
Страница 110 - The village smithy stands ; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands ; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
Страница 115 - T is but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale ! In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the shore, Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee...
Страница 146 - Hear the sledges with the bells Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
Страница 51 - The hills 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 146 - Oh, the bells, bells, bells! What a tale their terror tells Of Despair! How they clang, and clash, and roar! What a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air! Yet the ear it fully knows, By the twanging, And the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows...
Страница 91 - If the red slayer think he slays, Or if the slain think he is slain, They know not well the subtle ways I keep, and pass, and turn again. Far or forgot to me is near; Shadow and sunlight are the same; The vanished gods to me appear; And one to me are shame and fame.
Страница 227 - ... 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.
Страница 115 - UNION, strong and great! Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate! We know what Master laid thy keel, What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!
Страница 140 - 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...