The Bowdoin PoetsJ. Griffin, 1840 - 188 páginas |
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Página 6
Edward Payson Weston. It may be , that the dreams of fame , Proud Glory's plume , the warrior's name , Shall lure ... proudly move , Like the red clouds which skirt the sun , When the fierce tempest - day is done ! Or lead thee to a ...
Edward Payson Weston. It may be , that the dreams of fame , Proud Glory's plume , the warrior's name , Shall lure ... proudly move , Like the red clouds which skirt the sun , When the fierce tempest - day is done ! Or lead thee to a ...
Página 14
... proud young thing would veil her parting grief , And check her trembling voice , that did outsteal , Like witching tones upborne upon the wind Of summer night - telling of her high trust . But suddenly a change was on his face , And ...
... proud young thing would veil her parting grief , And check her trembling voice , that did outsteal , Like witching tones upborne upon the wind Of summer night - telling of her high trust . But suddenly a change was on his face , And ...
Página 15
... proudly calm , With his high brow unmoved . And the full soul Beamed in his eye unconquered , and his lip Was motionless , as is the forest leaf In the calm prelude to the storm . He died ; And the stern warriors , to his country foes ...
... proudly calm , With his high brow unmoved . And the full soul Beamed in his eye unconquered , and his lip Was motionless , as is the forest leaf In the calm prelude to the storm . He died ; And the stern warriors , to his country foes ...
Página 37
... proud , Despising not the low , nor envying the great . * Fair land adieu ! alone I pace the deck , 37 And watch with saddened heart thy less'ning shore , Though there I've seen , of brightest hopes the wreck , what fortune hath in ...
... proud , Despising not the low , nor envying the great . * Fair land adieu ! alone I pace the deck , 37 And watch with saddened heart thy less'ning shore , Though there I've seen , of brightest hopes the wreck , what fortune hath in ...
Página 40
... proud ; The sudden gleam of pleasure From brow and eye and lip , That tells the heart hath treasures It scarce knows how to keep . These , these are voices given , For soul to speak with soul , — As true to truth and heaven , As the ...
... proud ; The sudden gleam of pleasure From brow and eye and lip , That tells the heart hath treasures It scarce knows how to keep . These , these are voices given , For soul to speak with soul , — As true to truth and heaven , As the ...
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Términos y frases comunes
answering tone Autumn beam beauty beneath bloom bosom bowers breast breath bright brow Brunswick calm CHARLES H clouds cold COVENANTERS dark dead death deep dream earth fair faith Farewell fears fled flowers flowers of Eden foaming path fragrant friends gaze gentle GEORGE F gleam gloom glory grave green hath haunts heart heaven HENRY W hope hour infant ISAAC M'LELLAN joyous leaves life's light live alway lonely memory morning mother mournful ne'er neath night numbered o'er o'er thy ocean old time loved passed prayer proud repose rest ROBERT WYMAN rolling round rushing Samuel Thatcher SEBA SMITH shore sigh silent skies sleep slumbers smile soft song sorrow soul spirit star stern storm stream strife sweet swell tears tempest's thee thine thou art thought throng tread trembling Twas virgin train voice wave weep wild wing wintry wind withering woods youth
Pasajes populares
Página 31 - White as a sea-fog, landward bound, The spectral camp was seen, And with a sorrowful, deep sound, The river flowed between. No other voice nor sound was there, No drum, nor sentry's pace ; The mist-like banners clasped the air, As clouds with clouds embrace. But, when the old cathedral bell Proclaimed the morning prayer, The white pavilions rose and fell On the alarmed air. Down the broad valley, fast and far, The troubled army fled ; Up rose the glorious morning star, The ghastly host was dead.
Página 2 - Hence gifted bards Have ever loved the calm and quiet shades. For them there was an eloquent voice in all The sylvan pomp of woods, the golden sun, The flowers, the leaves, the river on its way, Blue skies, and silver clouds, and gentle winds...
Página 139 - When the hours of Day are numbered, And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight...
Página 30 - I HAVE read, in some old marvellous tale, Some legend strange and vague, That a midnight host of spectres pale Beleaguered the walls of Prague. Beside the Moldau's rushing stream, With the wan moon overhead, TTiere stood, as in an awful dream, The army of the dead.
Página 140 - And with them the Being Beauteous, Who unto my youth was given, More than all things else to love me, And is now a saint in heaven. With a slow and noiseless footstep Comes that messenger divine, Takes the vacant chair beside me, Lays her gentle hand in mine. And she sits and gazes at me With those deep and tender eyes, Like the stars, so still and saint-like, Looking downward from the skies.
Página 179 - Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.
Página 141 - Lays her gentle hand in mine. And she sits and gazes at me With those deep and tender eyes, Like the stars, so still and saint-like, Looking downward from the skies Uttered not, yet comprehended, Is the spirit's voiceless prayer, Soft rebukes, in blessings ended, Breathing from her lips of air. O, though oft depressed and lonely, All my fears are laid aside, If I but remember only Such as these have lived and died ! FLOWERS.
Página 139 - Then the forms of the departed Enter at the open door; The beloved, the true-hearted, Come to visit me once more; He, the young and strong, who cherished Noble longings for the strife, By the roadside fell and perished, Weary with the march of life! They, the holy ones and weakly, Who the cross of suffering bore, Folded their pale hands so meekly, Spake with...
Página 26 - The babe was sleeping on her breast. And colder still the winds did blow, And darker hours of night came on, And deeper grew the drifting snow : Her limbs were chilled, her strength was gone. " O God ! " she cried in accents wild, " If I must perish, save my child ! " She stripped her mantle from her breast, And bared her bosom to the storm.
Página 24 - Gray watcher of the waters ! Thou art king Of the blue lake ; and all the winged kind Do fear the echo of thine angry cry. How bright thy savage eye ! Thou lookest down, And seest the shining fishes as they glide ; And poising thy gray wing, thy glossy beak Swift as an arrow strikes its roving prey.