The Poets and Poetry of America |
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Page 80
... thou find , Nor in the circling air , a heart : Fairest , wouldst thou perfect be , Take , oh take that heart from me . THE LAD FROM TUCKAHOE . On the lad from Tuckahoe , Is the lad whom I love dearly , I tell it you sincerely , That ...
... thou find , Nor in the circling air , a heart : Fairest , wouldst thou perfect be , Take , oh take that heart from me . THE LAD FROM TUCKAHOE . On the lad from Tuckahoe , Is the lad whom I love dearly , I tell it you sincerely , That ...
Page 104
... Thou sparkling bowl ! thou sparkling bowl ! Though lips of bards thy brim may press , And eyes of beauty o'er thee roll , And song and dance thy power confess , I will not touch thee ; for there clings A scorpion to thy side , that ...
... Thou sparkling bowl ! thou sparkling bowl ! Though lips of bards thy brim may press , And eyes of beauty o'er thee roll , And song and dance thy power confess , I will not touch thee ; for there clings A scorpion to thy side , that ...
Page 106
... thou wilt not feel , Perchance with joys thou canst not share ; And when we both were wont to kneel , To breathe alone the silent prayer ; But ne'er a deeper pang to know , Than when I watched thy slow decay , Saw on thy cheeck the ...
... thou wilt not feel , Perchance with joys thou canst not share ; And when we both were wont to kneel , To breathe alone the silent prayer ; But ne'er a deeper pang to know , Than when I watched thy slow decay , Saw on thy cheeck the ...
Page 108
... Thou dost but share the lot of Him With whom his followers are to reign . Thy friends are gone , and thou , alone , Must bear the sorrows that assail ; Look upward to the eternal throne , And know a Friend who cannot fail . Bear firmly ...
... Thou dost but share the lot of Him With whom his followers are to reign . Thy friends are gone , and thou , alone , Must bear the sorrows that assail ; Look upward to the eternal throne , And know a Friend who cannot fail . Bear firmly ...
Page 113
... thou didst gain in murderous glee ; MAT , could its waters wash out blood , It had been well for thee . Crime fits for crime . And no repentant tear XI . The sea has like a plaything toss'd That heavy hull the livelong night . The man ...
... thou didst gain in murderous glee ; MAT , could its waters wash out blood , It had been well for thee . Crime fits for crime . And no repentant tear XI . The sea has like a plaything toss'd That heavy hull the livelong night . The man ...
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Common terms and phrases
ANNABEL LEE art thou beam beauty beneath bird blue born bosom breast breath breeze bright brow charm clouds dark dead death deep dream earth evermore fair fear feel flowers forest friends gaze gentle gleam glorious glory glow grace grave green hand Harvard College hast hath hear heart heaven hills holy hour land leaves life's light lips living lonely look LOUIS LEGRAND lyre morning mountain muse N. P. WILLIS Nashaway ne'er never night o'er pale pass'd Phi Beta Kappa PHILIP PENDLETON COOKE poems poet rills Rio Bravo round scene seem'd shade shadows shine shore sigh silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars storm stream sweet swell tears tempest thee thine thou art thought throne tree voice wave wild wind wings woods Yale College youth
Popular passages
Page 172 - All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom...
Page 476 - Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you" — here I opened wide the door: — Darkness there and nothing more.
Page 171 - To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
Page 182 - Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, That lately sprang and stood In brighter light and softer airs, A beauteous sisterhood ? Alas ! they all are in their graves ; The gentle race of flowers Are lying in their lowly beds, With the fair and good of ours. The rain is falling where they lie, But the cold November rain Calls not, from out the gloomy earth, The lovely ones again.
Page 362 - THE RAINY DAY. 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 ; My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast And the days are dark and dreary.
Page 357 - Were half the power that fills the world with terror, Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals nor forts : The warrior's name would be a name abhorred ! And every nation that should lift again Its hand against a brother, on its forehead Would wear forevermore the curse of Cain!
Page 470 - But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we, Of many far wiser than we ; And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee...
Page 172 - So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw In silence from the living, and no friend Take note of thy departure? All that breathe Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come And make their bed with thee.
Page 173 - Is beauty, such as blooms not in the glare Of the broad sun. That delicate forest flower, With scented breath, and look so like a smile, Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mould, An emanation of the indwelling Life, A visible token of the upholding Love, That are the soul of this wide universe.
Page 218 - AT midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power ; In dreams, through camp and court, he bore The trophies of a conqueror ; In dreams his song of triumph heard. Then wore his monarch's signet ring, Then pressed that monarch's throne — a King ; As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden bird.