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" Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there ! And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep — the... "
The Edinburgh literary journal; or, Weekly register of criticism and belles ... - الصفحة 131
1829
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A System of Elocution: With Special Reference to Gesture, to the Treatment ...

Andrew Comstock - 1855 - عدد الصفحات: 381
...Barcan des>eri ( pierce,, | Or lose thyself in the continuous woods1 Where rolls the Or'egon, | ana! hears no sound, | Save his own dash,ings — | yet the dead are there( ; '• And milTions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, | have laid them down In their...

The Chinook Indians: Traders of the Lower Columbia River

Robert H. Ruby, John A. Brown - 1988 - عدد الصفحات: 349
...morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings; yet the dead are there. William Cullen Bryant, Thanatopsh I T WAS THE practice of mariners entering the Columbia River to sometimes...
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Early American Poetry: Selections from Bradstreet, Taylor, Dwight, Freneau ...

Jane Donahue Eberwein - 1978 - عدد الصفحات: 398
...morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness,2 Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon,3 and hears no sound, Save his own dashings — yet...there: And millions in those solitudes, since first M The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep — the dead reign there alone....
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Visions & Revisions of American Poetry(p)

Lewis Turco - 1986 - عدد الصفحات: 178
...tribes That slumber in its bosom. Mother Nature seems distinctly unmatronly among such lines: ". . . the dead are there: / And millions in those solitudes,...their last sleep — the dead reign there alone, / So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw / In silence from the living, and no friend / Take note...
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Light From Many Lamps

Lillian Watson - 1988 - عدد الصفحات: 352
...morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings— yet the...their last sleep— the dead reign there alone. So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw In silence from the living, and no friend Take note of thy...
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The River of the Mother of God: and other Essays by Aldo Leopold

Aldo Leopold - 1992 - عدد الصفحات: 400
...morning; pierce the Barcan wilderness Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the...years began, have laid them down In their last sleep. And so, in time, shall we. And if there be, indeed, a special nobility inherent in the human race —...
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Best Remembered Poems

Martin Gardner - 1992 - عدد الصفحات: 210
...morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the...their last sleep — the dead reign there alone. So shall thou rest: and what if thou withdraw In silence from the living, and no friend Take note of thy...
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The Cambridge History of American Literature: Volume 1, 1590-1820

Cyrus R. K. Patell - 1994 - عدد الصفحات: 829
...offers philosophical consolation in the face of death, the promise of brotherhood with the millions who "since first / The flight of years began, have laid them down / In their last sleep." The voice speaks in blank verse, without the "restraint . . . [of] rhyme," and is conversational and prosaic,...
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The Columbia Anthology of American Poetry

Jay Parini, Axinn Professor of English Jay Parini - 1995 - عدد الصفحات: 757
...thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings—yet the dead are there: And millions in those solitudes,...of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep—the dead reign there alone. So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw In silence from the...
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Nineteenth-Century American Poetry

Various - 1996 - عدد الصفحات: 496
...morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there: 55 And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their...
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