Roadside Poems for Summer TravellersLucy Larcom J. R. Osgood, 1876 - 263 من الصفحات |
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الصفحة 19
... worthy of your wonder . " - - Strange words they seemed of slight and scorn ; My true - love sighed for sorrow , And looked me in the face , to think I thus could speak of Yarrow ! " O , green , " said I , " YARROW UNVISITED . 19.
... worthy of your wonder . " - - Strange words they seemed of slight and scorn ; My true - love sighed for sorrow , And looked me in the face , to think I thus could speak of Yarrow ! " O , green , " said I , " YARROW UNVISITED . 19.
الصفحة 34
... face . On eastern hills I see their smokes , Mixed with mist by distant lochs . I met many travellers Who the road had surely kept ; They saw not my fine revellers , - These had crossed them while they slept . Some had heard their fair ...
... face . On eastern hills I see their smokes , Mixed with mist by distant lochs . I met many travellers Who the road had surely kept ; They saw not my fine revellers , - These had crossed them while they slept . Some had heard their fair ...
الصفحة 45
... face ; With an innocent appealing For the secret of the place , To the trees which surely knew it , in partaking of the grace . Where's no foot of human creature , How could reach a human hand ? And if this be work of nature , Why has ...
... face ; With an innocent appealing For the secret of the place , To the trees which surely knew it , in partaking of the grace . Where's no foot of human creature , How could reach a human hand ? And if this be work of nature , Why has ...
الصفحة 48
... the bower I past ; Foot and soul being dimly drifted Through the greenwood , till , at last , In the hill - top's open sunshine , I all consciously was cast . Face to face with the true mountains , I stood 48 ROADSIDE poems .
... the bower I past ; Foot and soul being dimly drifted Through the greenwood , till , at last , In the hill - top's open sunshine , I all consciously was cast . Face to face with the true mountains , I stood 48 ROADSIDE poems .
الصفحة 49
Lucy Larcom. Face to face with the true mountains , I stood silently and still ; Drawing strength for fancy's dauntings , From the air about the hill , And from Nature's open mercies , and most debonair goodwill . Oh ! the golden ...
Lucy Larcom. Face to face with the true mountains , I stood silently and still ; Drawing strength for fancy's dauntings , From the air about the hill , And from Nature's open mercies , and most debonair goodwill . Oh ! the golden ...
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عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
amid Apennine azure Bayard Taylor beauty beneath bird Blaavin bless blue bosom boughs bower breath bright brook brooklet brow calm cliffs climb clouds crags Cromer dark deep dream earth earthquake storm echoes eyes fair feet flowers forests forever Glaramara gleams glory gold golden golden air gorses grand horizon gray green hath hear heart heaven height Highlands hills Jean Ingelow lake land light live LOCH KATRINE lonely look Lucy Larcom mighty mist Mont Blanc morning mountain murmuring Naiad never night o'er ocean peak pines purple rain rills river rocks round shade shadows shine silent silver sing Skiddaw sleep smile snow soft song soul sound spirit splendor stars steep storm streams summer summit sweet T. B. Aldrich thee thine things thou thought thunder torrent trees vale valley voice wandering waters waves wild wind woods Wordsworth
مقاطع مشهورة
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...