Comentarios de la gente - Escribir un comentario
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Volumen2
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Vista completa - 1881
Angel answered bear beautiful beneath birds breath bright called cloud comes dark dead death deep door dream earth eyes face fair fall father fear feel feet fields fire follow forest give golden hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven Hiawatha Italy John King land Laughing leaves light listen living look Lord loud MICHAEL ANGELO morning never night o'er once passed poem pray PRINCE rest rise river rose round sails seemed shadow shining ship silent singing sleep song soul sound speak spirit stand stars stood street strong sweet tell thee things thou thought town turned unto village voice wait walls wild wind wonder young youth
Página 87 - T is but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale ! In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the shore, Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee...
Página 191 - If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower as a signal light, — One, if by land, and two, if by sea ; And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm, For the country folk to be up and to arm.
Página 192 - A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet : That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light The fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed in his flight, Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
Página 3 - THE shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, Excelsior ! His brow was sad ; his eye beneath, Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, Excelsior! In happy homes he saw the light Of household fires gleam warm and bright; Above, the spectral glaciers shone, And from his lips escaped a groan, Excelsior! "Try not the Pass!
Página 92 - We will be patient, and assuage the feeling We may not wholly stay ; By silence sanctifying, not concealing, The grief that must have way.
Página 81 - All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow, All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing, All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience ! And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her bosom, Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured,
Página 91 - Amid these earthly damps, What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers, May be heaven's distant lamps. There is no Death ! What seems so is transition. This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life Elysian, Whose portal we call Death. She is not dead, — the child of our affection, — But gone unto that school Where she no longer needs our poor protection, And Christ himself doth rule. In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, By guardian angels led, Safe from temptation, safe from...
Página xx - Tow'rds the reef of Norman's Woe. And ever the fitful gusts between A sound came from the land; It was the sound of the trampling surf On the rocks and the hard sea-sand. The breakers were right beneath her bows, She drifted a dreary wreck, And a whooping billow swept the crew Like icicles from her deck. She struck where the white and fleecy waves Looked soft as carded wool, But the cruel rocks, they gored her side Like the horns of an angry bull. Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, With the...
Página 192 - It was twelve by the village clock When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. He heard the crowing of the cock, And the barking of the farmer's dog. And felt the damp of the river fog, That rises after the sun goes down. It was one by the village clock, When he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, Gaze at him with a spectral glare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look...