The Poets of America, المجلد 1

الغلاف الأمامي
John Keese
S. Colman, 1840 - 284 من الصفحات

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الصفحة 78 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, that moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
الصفحة 101 - Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below, When what to my wondering eyes should appear But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, With a little old driver so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
الصفحة 179 - Of her bright face one glance will trace A picture on the brain, And of her voice in echoing hearts A sound must long remain; But memory, such as mine of her, So very much endears, When death is nigh my latest sigh Will not be life's, but hers. I fill this cup to one made up Of loveliness alone, A woman, of her gentle sex The seeming paragon — Her health! and would on earth there stood Some more of such a frame, That life might be all poetry, And weariness a name.
الصفحة 48 - When Freedom, from her mountain height, Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there; She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies, And striped its pure, celestial white With streakings of the morning light; Then, from his mansion in the sun, She called her eagle bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand, The symbol of her chosen land.
الصفحة 90 - My life is like the autumn leaf That trembles in the moon's pale ray, Its hold is frail — its date is brief, Restless — and soon to pass away!
الصفحة 49 - Flag of the free heart's hope and home, By angel hands to valor given! Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven.
الصفحة 110 - And life, in rare and beautiful forms, Is sporting amid those bowers of stone, And is safe when the wrathful Spirit of storms Has made the top of the wave his own. And when the ship from his fury flies, Where the myriad voices of Ocean roar ; When the wind-god frowns in the murky skies, And demons are waiting the wreck on shore ; Then, far below, in the peaceful sea, The purple mullet and gold-fish rove, Where the waters murmur tranquilly, Through...
الصفحة 36 - He put his acorn helmet on ; It was plumed of the silk of the thistle down : The corslet plate that guarded his breast Was once the wild bee's golden vest ; His cloak, of a thousand mingled dyes, Was formed of the wings of butterflies ; His shield was the shell of a lady-bug queen, Studs of gold on a ground of green ; And the quivering lance which he brandished bright, Was the sting of a wasp he had slain in fight.
الصفحة 49 - Flag of the seas! on ocean wave Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave; When death, careering on the gale, Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, And frighted waves rush wildly back Before the broadside's reeling rack, Each dying wanderer of the sea...
الصفحة 58 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way...

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