The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth LongfellowRoutledge, Warne, and Routledge, 1860 - 417 من الصفحات |
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الصفحة 15
... Speaking of the Past unto the Present , Tell us of the ancient Games of Flowers ; In all places , then , and in all seasons , Flowers expand their light and soul - like wings , Teaching us , by most persuasive reasons , How akin they ...
... Speaking of the Past unto the Present , Tell us of the ancient Games of Flowers ; In all places , then , and in all seasons , Flowers expand their light and soul - like wings , Teaching us , by most persuasive reasons , How akin they ...
الصفحة 20
... speaking from death's frost , Like fiery tongues at Pentecost ! Glimmer , as funeral lamps , Amid the chills and damps Of the vast plain where Death encamps ! EARLIER POEMS . WOODS IN WINTER . WHEN Winter winds 20 VOICES OF THE NIGHT ...
... speaking from death's frost , Like fiery tongues at Pentecost ! Glimmer , as funeral lamps , Amid the chills and damps Of the vast plain where Death encamps ! EARLIER POEMS . WOODS IN WINTER . WHEN Winter winds 20 VOICES OF THE NIGHT ...
الصفحة 42
... speak not of the Trojan name , Neither its glory nor its shame Has met our eyes ; Nor of Rome's great and glorious dead , Though we have heard so oft , and read , Their histories . Little avails it now to know Of ages passed so long ago ...
... speak not of the Trojan name , Neither its glory nor its shame Has met our eyes ; Nor of Rome's great and glorious dead , Though we have heard so oft , and read , Their histories . Little avails it now to know Of ages passed so long ago ...
الصفحة 76
... speak it here , Ye would stand aghast with fear ; I am a Prince of mighty sway ! " When he rode into the lists , The arch of heaven grew black with mists , And the castle ' gan to rock . At the first blow , Fell the youth from saddle ...
... speak it here , Ye would stand aghast with fear ; I am a Prince of mighty sway ! " When he rode into the lists , The arch of heaven grew black with mists , And the castle ' gan to rock . At the first blow , Fell the youth from saddle ...
الصفحة 81
... speak of the suddenly changing seasons of the Northern clime . There is no long spring , gradually unfolding leaf and blossom ; -no lingering autumn , pompous with many - colored leaves . But winter and summer are wonderful , and pass ...
... speak of the suddenly changing seasons of the Northern clime . There is no long spring , gradually unfolding leaf and blossom ; -no lingering autumn , pompous with many - colored leaves . But winter and summer are wonderful , and pass ...
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Acadian angel answer arms beautiful behold BELFRY OF BRUGES beneath birds blossom bosom breath bride bright Bruges Captain clouds COPLAS DE MANRIQUE dark dead Death descended dost doth dream earth Evangeline eyes face fair father fear feet fire Flanders flowers forest GASPAR BECERRA gleam golden Grand-Pré grave Guy de Dampierre hand hast hear heard heart heaven holy HUMPHREY GILBERT John Alden JORGE MANRIQUE JULIUS MOSEN land laugh leaves light lips look LOPE DE VEGA loud maiden meadows Miles Standish mist morning night o'er ocean passed Plymouth prayer Priscilla restless heart river rose round sail Sandalphon sang shadow ships shore silent singing slumber smile snow soft song sorrow soul sound spake spirit stands stars stood strong sweet tears Tharaw thee thou thought toil unto Victor Galbraith village voice walls wander wave weary wild wind words youth
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 273 - It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in paradise ! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies ; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes. Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing, Onward through life he goes ; Each morning sees some task begun, Each evening sees it close ; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose.
الصفحة 237 - Then the Master, With a gesture of command, Waved his hand; And at the word, Loud and sudden there was heard, All around them and below, The sound of hammers, blow on blow, Knocking away the shores and spurs. And see! she stirs! She starts,— she moves,— she seems to feel The thrill of life along her keel, And, spurning with her foot the ground, With one exulting, joyous bound, She leaps into the ocean's arms!
الصفحة 246 - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended But one dead lamb is there ! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair ! The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead ; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted...
الصفحة 141 - The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, That my soul cannot resist; A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
الصفحة 151 - I SHOT an arrow into the air, It fell to earth I knew not where ; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where ; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song ! Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke ; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend.
الصفحة 273 - THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary ; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary. My life is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary...
الصفحة 366 - Strange to me now are the forms I meet When I visit the dear old town; But the native air is pure and sweet, And the trees that o'ershadow each...
الصفحة 337 - We have not wings, we cannot soar ; But we have feet to scale and climb By slow degrees, by more and more, The cloudy summits of our time.
الصفحة 142 - Read from some humbler poet. Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the eyelids start ; Who through long days of labor, And nights devoid of ease, Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies.
الصفحة 151 - I breathed a song into the air, I i. fell to earth, I knew not where ; For who has sight so keen and strong. That it can follow the flight of song • Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke ; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend, SONNETS.