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 pagini Added t.p., engraved. |
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Pagina lvi
... Morning · Snowflakes • 587 · Only One · •. Charles Leonard Moore TO ENGLAND FROM THE BOOK OF DAY - DREAMS " Soul unto Soul glooms darkling Disenchantment Or ever the Earth was Thou livest , O Soul ! Then shall we see WHAT MY LOVER SAID ...
... Morning · Snowflakes • 587 · Only One · •. Charles Leonard Moore TO ENGLAND FROM THE BOOK OF DAY - DREAMS " Soul unto Soul glooms darkling Disenchantment Or ever the Earth was Thou livest , O Soul ! Then shall we see WHAT MY LOVER SAID ...
Pagina lxiv
... MORNING 724 WHY ? 734 SILKWEED . 724 THE WAYFARER 734 SOLITUDE 724 CONTENT 734 INFINITY 725 ANCESTRY 734 THE VIOLETS 734 I EXPLAIN 734 Barrett Eastman RICHARD SOMERS . 725 Herbert Bashford JOY ENOUGH • . 725 THE ARID LANDS William ...
... MORNING 724 WHY ? 734 SILKWEED . 724 THE WAYFARER 734 SOLITUDE 724 CONTENT 734 INFINITY 725 ANCESTRY 734 THE VIOLETS 734 I EXPLAIN 734 Barrett Eastman RICHARD SOMERS . 725 Herbert Bashford JOY ENOUGH • . 725 THE ARID LANDS William ...
Pagina lxv
... MORNING FANCY 740 A GOOD - BY • THE DEATHLESS Grace Ellery Channing - Stetson THE MOCKING - BIRD THE DANCER 751 751 751 751 ENGLAND WAR JUDGMENT A SONG OF ARNO . 740 740 740 Frederic Ridgely Torrence 741 FROM " THE HOUSE OF A HUNDRED ...
... MORNING FANCY 740 A GOOD - BY • THE DEATHLESS Grace Ellery Channing - Stetson THE MOCKING - BIRD THE DANCER 751 751 751 751 ENGLAND WAR JUDGMENT A SONG OF ARNO . 740 740 740 Frederic Ridgely Torrence 741 FROM " THE HOUSE OF A HUNDRED ...
Pagina 4
... morning suns and evening dews At first thy little being came ; If nothing once , you nothing lose , For when you die you are the same ; The space between is but an hour , The frail duration of a flower . His imaged birds , and painted ...
... morning suns and evening dews At first thy little being came ; If nothing once , you nothing lose , For when you die you are the same ; The space between is but an hour , The frail duration of a flower . His imaged birds , and painted ...
Pagina 11
... morning , though we feel As sick as drunkards when they reel , Yes , feel such pains in back and head As would confine you men to bed , We ply the brush , we wield the broom , We air the beds , and right the room ; The cows must next be ...
... morning , though we feel As sick as drunkards when they reel , Yes , feel such pains in back and head As would confine you men to bed , We ply the brush , we wield the broom , We air the beds , and right the room ; The cows must next be ...
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Alte ediții - Afișează-le pe toate
An American Anthology, 1787-1900: Selections Illustrating the Editor's ... Edmund Clarence Stedman Vizualizare completă - 1900 |
An American Anthology, 1787-1900: Selections, Illustrating the Editor's ... Edmund Clarence Stedman Vizualizare completă - 1900 |
An American Anthology, 1787-1900: Selections, Illustrating the Editor's ... Edmund Clarence Stedman Vizualizare completă - 1900 |
Termeni și expresii frecvente
Annabel Lee art thou Atlantic Monthly beauty bells Ben Bolt beneath bird bloom blow brave breast breath bright brow cardinal bird child cloud dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth eyes face fair fear feet flame flowers glory glow golden gone grass grave gray green hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven hills Israfel Joseph Rodman Drake Kingston Bridge kiss Kree land light lips live lonely look lyre mighty moon morning neath never nevermore night o'er pass peace Poems poet 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 weary wild wind wings wood
Pasaje populare
Pagina 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!
Pagina 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.
Pagina 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...
Pagina 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.
Pagina 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.
Pagina 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...
Pagina 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.
Pagina 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.
Pagina 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!
Pagina 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...