Harper's Cyclopædia of British and American PoetryEpes Sargent Harper & Brothers, 1881 - 958 páginas |
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Página xvii
... Immortal Heine , Heinrich ( German ) . Sie Haben Mich Gequälet ( Martin's translation ) . 740 The Excellent Man ( Martin's translation ) ........ 740 Hill , Thomas . The Bobolink .. Antiopa . Hemans , Felicia . The Winter is Past ...
... Immortal Heine , Heinrich ( German ) . Sie Haben Mich Gequälet ( Martin's translation ) . 740 The Excellent Man ( Martin's translation ) ........ 740 Hill , Thomas . The Bobolink .. Antiopa . Hemans , Felicia . The Winter is Past ...
Página xxviii
... Immortality of Love ..... 320 Story , William Wetmore . A Beautiful Day in Autumn . 321 Lines on John Lothrop Motley ... Immortal ... 470 To a Child 619 Verses on a Child . 471 The Man Survives .. 620 An Act of Kindness . 471 Prose and ...
... Immortality of Love ..... 320 Story , William Wetmore . A Beautiful Day in Autumn . 321 Lines on John Lothrop Motley ... Immortal ... 470 To a Child 619 Verses on a Child . 471 The Man Survives .. 620 An Act of Kindness . 471 Prose and ...
Página 16
... immortal diet ; My bottle of salvation ; My gown of glory , hope's true gauge , And thus I'll take my pilgrimage ... immortality , Then the blesséd paths we'll travel , Strewed with rubies thick as gravel ; Ceilings of diamonds ...
... immortal diet ; My bottle of salvation ; My gown of glory , hope's true gauge , And thus I'll take my pilgrimage ... immortality , Then the blesséd paths we'll travel , Strewed with rubies thick as gravel ; Ceilings of diamonds ...
Página 23
... immortal harms ; Her loving looks are murdering darts , Her songs bewitching charms . Like winter rose , and summer ice , Her joys are still untimely ; Before her hope , behind remorse , Fair first , in fine unseemly . Plough not the ...
... immortal harms ; Her loving looks are murdering darts , Her songs bewitching charms . Like winter rose , and summer ice , Her joys are still untimely ; Before her hope , behind remorse , Fair first , in fine unseemly . Plough not the ...
Página 26
... immortal that thou hast ? Oh ! Pythagoras , - Metempsychosis ! · were true , - that This soul should fly from me , and I be changed Into some brutish beast . All beasts are happy , for when they die , Their souls are soon dissolved in ...
... immortal that thou hast ? Oh ! Pythagoras , - Metempsychosis ! · were true , - that This soul should fly from me , and I be changed Into some brutish beast . All beasts are happy , for when they die , Their souls are soon dissolved in ...
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Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Harper's Cyclopaedia of British and American Poetry (Classic Reprint) Epes Sargent Sin vista previa disponible - 2018 |
Términos y frases comunes
beauty Ben Jonson beneath Binnorie birds blessed bonny born breast breath bright brow busk Charles Lamb charms Chevy Chase clouds dark dead dear death deep delight divine doth dream earth eternal eyes fair fame father fear flowers frae glory grace green grief Grongar Hill hame hand happy hast hath Hazelgreen hear heart heaven heir of Linne hope hour immortal king kiss land lassie leave light live look Lord Lycidas mind morning mortal native Nature's ne'er never night numbers Nut-brown Maide o'er pain pleasure poem poet praise Robin Hood rose round Scotland shade shine sigh sing Sir Patrick Spens sleep smile song sonnets sorrow soul sound spirit stars Stutly sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought Twas verse voice waves weep wild wind wings wrote Yarrow young youth
Pasajes populares
Página 99 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide, ' Doth God exact day-labor, light denied ?
Página 413 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning.
Página 664 - art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!
Página 664 - Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as
Página 183 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Página 290 - Nor Man nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy ! Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
Página 310 - And now the storm-blast came, and he Was tyrannous and strong: He struck with his o'ertaking wings, And chased us south along. With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, And forward bends his head, The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, And southward aye we fled.
Página 414 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Página 653 - And burst the cannon's roar; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, And waves were white below, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee; — The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea!
Página 663 - Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow— sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Nameless here for evermore.