The Illustrated Birthday Book of American Poets

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Almira Leach Hayward
James R. Osgood, 1883 - 307 pagini

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Pagina 229 - The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread...
Pagina 36 - Nothing useless is, or low ; Each thing in its place is best ; And what seems but idle show Strengthens and supports the rest...
Pagina 232 - Past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, And the days are dark and dreary. Be still, sad heart ! and cease repining ; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining ; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.
Pagina 88 - Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, As the swift seasons roll! Leave thy low- vaulted past! Let each new temple, nobler than the last, Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, Till thou at length art free, Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!
Pagina 68 - Were a star quenched on high, For ages would its light, Still travelling downward from the sky, Shine on our mortal sight. So when a great man dies, For years beyond our ken The light he leaves behind him lies Upon the paths of men.
Pagina 166 - And if my heart and flesh are weak To bear an untried pain, The bruised reed he will not break, But strengthen and sustain.
Pagina 22 - Count me o'er earth's chosen heroes, — they were souls that stood alone, While the men they agonized for hurled the contumelious stone, Stood serene, and down the future saw the golden beam incline To the side of perfect justice, mastered by their faith divine, By one man's plain truth to manhood and to God's supreme design.
Pagina 264 - He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat; He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat : Oh ! be swift, my soul, to answer Him ! be jubilant, my feet ! Our God is marching on. In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me : As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, While God is marching on.
Pagina 126 - The heights by great men reached and kept Were not attained by sudden flight, But they, while their companions slept. Were toiling upward in the night.
Pagina 7 - Unwarmed by any sunset light The gray day darkened into night A night made hoary with the swarm And whirl-dance of the blinding storm, As zigzag, wavering to and fro, Crossed and recrossed the winged snow: And ere the early bedtime came The white drift piled the window-frame, And through the glass the clothes-line posts Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts.

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