ما يقوله الناس - كتابة مراجعة
لم نعثر على أي مراجعات في الأماكن المعتادة.
طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
Roadside Poems for Summer Travellers (Classic Reprint)
<span dir=ltr>Lucy Larcom</span>
لا تتوفر معاينة - 2015
amid beauty beneath bird bless blow blue bower breath bright brook calm clear climb clouds dark deep dream earth eyes face fair fall feel feet fields flow flowers forests forever gleams glory gold golden gray green hand hath head hear heart heaven height hills hour lake land leaves light live lonely look mighty mind mist morning mountain nature never night o'er O’er once passing past peak pines plain rain rest rise river rocks rose round seemed seen shade shadows shine side sight silent silver sing sleep smile snow soft song soul sound spirit spread stand stars stone stood storm streams summer sweet thee thine things thou thought tree turn vale valley voice walk wandering waters waves wild wind woods
الصفحة 157 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story : The long light shakes across the lakes, And the •wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
الصفحة 172 - Clear, placid Leman ! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake , Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction ; once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.
الصفحة 107 - When these wild ecstasies shall be matured Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms, Thy memory be as a dwelling-place For all sweet sounds and harmonies ; oh ! then, If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, And these my exhortations ! Nor, perchance — If I should be where I no more can hear } Thy voice...
الصفحة 179 - Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet! God ! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!
الصفحة 105 - All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods, ' And mountains ; and of all that we behold From this green earth; of all the mighty world Of eye and ear, both what they half create *, And what perceive...
الصفحة 178 - Blanc! The Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful form ! Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently! Around thee and above Deep is the air, and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass : methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge ! But when I look...
الصفحة 180 - Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds ! And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow, And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God ! Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost ! Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest ! Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain-storm ! Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds ! Ye signs and wonders of the elements, Utter forth God...
الصفحة 85 - Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither; Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.
الصفحة 104 - That time is past, And all its aching joys are now no more, And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur; other gifts Have followed ; for such loss, I would believe, Abundant recompence. For I have learned To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity, Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue.
الصفحة 102 - Five years have past ; five summers, with the length Of five long winters ! and again I hear These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs With a soft inland murmur. — Once again Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, That on a wild secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion ; and connect The landscape with the quiet of the sky. The day is come when I again repose Here, under this dark sycamore, and view...