A Memorial of Alice and Phoebe Cary: With Some of Their Later PoemsHurd and Houghton, 1875 - Počet stran: 351 |
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Další vydání - Zobrazit všechny
A Memorial of Alice and Phoebe Cary: With Some of Their Later Poems Mary Clemmer Úplné zobrazení - 1874 |
A Memorial of Alice and Phoebe Cary: With Some of Their Later Poems Mary Clemmer Úplné zobrazení - 1875 |
A Memorial of Alice and Phoebe Cary: With Some of Their Later Poems Mary Clemmer Úplné zobrazení - 1874 |
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Alice and Phoebe Alice Cary Alice Cary's Alice's Bayard Taylor beauty believe birds blue-stocking bright called child Clovernook cried dark darling dead dear death delight died door dream Elizabeth Cary Elmina eternity eyes face faith father feel feet flowers friends golden gone grace Greeley hand happy heart Horace Greeley hour human hymn Johnny knew lady leave letters light live look memory morning mother nature never night o'er Oliver Johnson P. T. Barnum pain Phœbe Phoebe Cary Phoebe's poems poet poor rest Robert Dale Owen rose seemed shadow shining sick sing Sir Robert Cary sister sleep smile snow song Sorosis sorrow soul spirit story summer sweet tears tell tender thee things thou thought to-day utterance wait weary wild wind woman women words write wrote York Tribune
Oblíbené pasáže
Strana 48 - The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh. But now the whole Round Table is dissolved Which was an image of the mighty world; And I, the last, go forth companionless, And the days darken round me, and the years, Among new men, strange faces, other minds.
Strana 48 - Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go? Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes? For now I see the true old times are dead, When every morning brought a noble chance , And every chance brought out a noble knight.
Strana 5 - These, and the house where I was born, Low and little and black and old, With children, many as it can hold, All at the windows, open wide ; Heads and shoulders clear outside, And fair young faces all ablush; Perhaps you may have seen, some day, Roses crowding the selfsame way, Out of a wilding, wayside bush.
Strana 49 - Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend ? For so the whole round world is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
Strana 49 - Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. But now farewell. I am going a long way With these thou seest — if indeed I go — (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) To the island-valley of Avilion; Where falls not hail, or...
Strana 49 - The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfills Himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
Strana 175 - O, if my mortal feet Have almost gained the brink ; If it be I am nearer home Even to-day than I think ; " Father, perfect my trust ; Let my spirit feel in death That her feet are firmly set On the rock of a living faith.
Strana 235 - Of the strong will that conquered pain. God giveth quietness at last! The common way that all have passed She went, with mortal yearnings fond, To fuller life and love beyond.
Strana 236 - What to shut eyes has God revealed ? What hear the ears that death has sealed? What undreamed beauty passing show Requites the loss of all we know...
Strana 26 - Years since (but names to me before), Two sisters sought at eve my door ; Two song-birds wandering from their nest, A gray old farm-house in the West. Timid and young, the elder had Even then a smile too sweetly sad ; The crown of pain that all must wear Too early pressed her midnight hair. Yet, ere the summer eve grew long, Her modest lips were sweet with song, A memory haunted all her words Of clover-fields and singing-birds.