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angels beautiful bells bird blessed blue brave break breath bright brother clear cold comes dark dead dear death deep door dream earth eyes face fair fall father feel feet field flowers gates give glad glory gone grave gray grew grow hand head hear heard heart heaven hope hour JOHN keep kind king kiss Lady laid land laugh leave light lips live look Lord Mary meet mind morn mother never night o'er once passed past play poor remember rest rose round seems shore side silence sing sleep smile song sorrow soul stand stars sweet tears tell thee There's thine things thou thought tree true turned Vere voice wait waters waves weary wind wonder young
الصفحة 38 - To him who, in the love of Nature, holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language: for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty; and she glides Into his darker musings with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
الصفحة 135 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn Or busy housewife ply her evening care: No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
الصفحة 249 - ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore — While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. ' 'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, ' tapping at my chamber door — Only this and nothing more.
الصفحة 325 - THE BAREFOOT BOY. Blessings on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes; With thy red lip, redder still Kissed by strawberries on the hill; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace; From my heart I give thee joy,— I was once a barefoot boy!
الصفحة 327 - A SIMPLE Child, That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage Girl: She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad: 10 Her eyes were fair, and very fair; — Her beauty made me glad. " Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be ? " " How many ? Seven in all," she said And wondering looked at me.
الصفحة 188 - Their blood has washed out their foul footstep's pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave...
الصفحة 189 - Beneath whose awful hand we hold Dominion over palm and pine — Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget — lest we forget! The tumult and the shouting dies — The Captains and the Kings depart — Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, An humble and a contrite heart.
الصفحة 134 - The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
الصفحة 188 - O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave? On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
الصفحة 257 - thing of evil — prophet still, if bird or devil ! By that Heaven that bends above us — by that God we both adore — Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore — Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore ?