Poetical Works

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Phillips, Sampson & Company, 1853 - 39 páginas

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Página 124 - When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore. Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame. Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear: — They shook the depths of the desert gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Página 161 - Speak, Father!" once again he cried, "If I may yet be gone!" —And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on.
Página 337 - Her lot is on you — silent tears to weep And patient smiles to wear through suffering's hour, And sumless riches, from affection's deep, To pour on broken reeds — a wasted shower ! And to make idols, and to find them clay, And to bewail that worship — therefore pray!
Página 114 - Through glowing orchards forth they peep. Each from its nook of leaves; And fearless there the lowly sleep, As the bird beneath their eaves.
Página 347 - O'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown : Yet must thou hear a voice — Restore the dead ! Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee ! — Restore the dead, thou sea ! BRING FLOWERS.
Página 123 - The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
Página 347 - Give back the lost and lovely ! — those for whom The place was kept at board and hearth so long ! The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom, And the vain yearning woke midst festal song. Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown, But all is not thine own.
Página 215 - Then, starting from the ground once more, he seized the monarch's rein, Amidst the pale and wildered looks of all the courtier train ; And, with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, the rearing war-horse led, And sternly set them face to face, — the king before the dead...
Página 160 - THE boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but he had fled ; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead.
Página 346 - Far down, and shining through their stillness lies ! Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold, Won from ten thousand royal Argosies ! — Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful main ; Earth claims not these again.

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