The poetical worksHoughton Mifflin, 1910 |
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Agamenticus Apollo Appledore Atropos Auf wiedersehen bard beauty bird blue bobolink bore brain breath Clotho cloud dark dead dear deep divine door doubt dream earth Eliab eyes faith fancy feel feet fire ghosts glow gold grace grew half hand hast hath hear heart heaven hermit thrush JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL John Bull keep kind Knott Lachesis laugh life's light lives look Mephistopheles mind mused Nature ne'er neath never night o'er Odin once poem poet poor raps rhyme roar round saints sang scarce seemed shade shadow shore Singing Leaves Skald sleep snow sometimes song soul spin spirits stir sure sweet t'other tears thee there's things thou thought throb Tis a woodland tree trip-hammer turn twixt verse vext VINLAND White Island wiedersehen wind wise wonder wood woodland enchanted
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Страница 184 - Neath its white-gloved and jewelled load; And wishes me some dreadful harm, Hearing the merry corks explode. Meanwhile I inly curse the bore Of hunting still the same old coon, And envy him, outside the door. In golden quiets of the moon.
Страница 247 - O Sheik, I cannot leave thee so ; I will repay thee ; all this thou hast done Unto that Ibrahim who slew thy son ! " "Take thrice the gold," said Yussouf, "for with thee Into the desert, never to return, My one black thought shall ride away from me ; First-born, for whom by day and night I yearn, Balanced and just are all of God's decrees ; Thou art avenged, my first-born, sleep in peace !
Страница 58 - s wanted, he goes to the task As a cooper would do in composing a cask ; He picks out the staves, of their qualities heedful, Just hoops them together as tight as is needful, And, if the best fortune should crown the attempt, he Has made at the most something wooden and...
Страница 52 - And reveals the live Man, still supreme and erect, Underneath the bemummying wrappers of sect; There was ne'er a man born who had more of the swing Of the true lyric bard and all that kind of thing; And his failures arise (though...
Страница 281 - I have not spilt one drop of joy Poured in the senses of the boy, Nor Nature fails my walks to bless With all her golden inwardness ; And as blind nestlings, unafraid, Stretch up wide-mouthed to every shade By which their downy dream is stirred, Taking it for the mother-bird, So, when God's shadow, which is light, Unheralded, by day or night, My wakening instincts falls across, Silent as sunbeams over moss, In my heart's nest half-conscious things Stir with a helpless sense of wings, Lift themselves...
Страница 49 - JVos, we don't want extra freezing in winter ; Take him up in the depth of July, my advice is, When you feel an Egyptian devotion to ices. But, deduct all you can, there 's enough that 's right good in him, He has a true soul for field, river, and wood in him ; And his heart, in the midst of brick...
Страница 171 - t was easy to buy the gems and the silk, But no Singing Leaves were there. Then deep in the greenwood rode he, And asked of every tree, " O, if you have ever a Singing Leaf, I pray you give it me ! " But the trees all kept their counsel, And never a word said they, Only there sighed from the pine-tops A music of seas far away. Only the pattering aspen Made a sound of growing rain, That fell ever faster and faster, Then faltered to silence again. " O, where shall I find a little foot-page That would...
Страница 191 - I could not sleep for cold, I had fire enough in my brain, And builded, with roofs of gold, My beautiful castles in Spain ! Since then I have toiled day and night, I have money and power good store, But I 'd give all my lamps of silver bright.
Страница 246 - Behold one outcast and in dread, Against whose life the bow of power is bent, Who flies, and hath not where to lay his head ; I come to thee for shelter and for food, To Yussouf, called through all our tribes ' The Good.' "
Страница 51 - There is Whittier, whose swelling and vehement heart Strains the strait-breasted drab of the Quaker apart, And reveals the live Man, still supreme and erect Underneath the bemnmmying wrappers of sect ; There was ne'er a man born who had more of the swing Of the true lyric bard and all that kind of thing...