American poems. With short biogr. notices of the most celebrated American authors1878 |
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Výsledky 1-5 z 49
Strana 9
... beautiful ! Late in the wane Of the dishevelled year ; when hill and plain Have yielded all their store ; When the leaves thin and pale— And they not many - tremble on the bough ; Or , noisy in their crisp decay , e'en now Roll to the ...
... beautiful ! Late in the wane Of the dishevelled year ; when hill and plain Have yielded all their store ; When the leaves thin and pale— And they not many - tremble on the bough ; Or , noisy in their crisp decay , e'en now Roll to the ...
Strana 11
... beautiful , For which the speech of England has no name— The prairies . I behold them for the first , And my heart swells , while the dilated sight Takes - in the encircling vastness . In airy undulations , far away , Lo ! they stretch ...
... beautiful , For which the speech of England has no name— The prairies . I behold them for the first , And my heart swells , while the dilated sight Takes - in the encircling vastness . In airy undulations , far away , Lo ! they stretch ...
Strana 14
... beautiful . The graceful deer Bounds to the wood at my approach . The bee , A more adventurous colonist than man , With whom he came across the eastern deep , Fills the savannas with his murmurings , And hides his sweets , as in the ...
... beautiful . The graceful deer Bounds to the wood at my approach . The bee , A more adventurous colonist than man , With whom he came across the eastern deep , Fills the savannas with his murmurings , And hides his sweets , as in the ...
Strana 24
American poems. The visions of my youth are past— Too bright , too beautiful to last . I've tried the world - it wears no more The colouring of romance it wore . Yet well has Nature kept the truth She promised to my earliest youth : The ...
American poems. The visions of my youth are past— Too bright , too beautiful to last . I've tried the world - it wears no more The colouring of romance it wore . Yet well has Nature kept the truth She promised to my earliest youth : The ...
Strana 36
... beautiful , the young , The birthright of spell more strong Than these hath brought her ; She is your kinswoman in song , A Poet's daughter . " A Poet's daughter ? Could I clair The consanguinity of fame , Veins of my intellectual frame ...
... beautiful , the young , The birthright of spell more strong Than these hath brought her ; She is your kinswoman in song , A Poet's daughter . " A Poet's daughter ? Could I clair The consanguinity of fame , Veins of my intellectual frame ...
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American Poems. with Short Biogr. Notices of the Most Celebrated American ... American Poems Náhled není k dispozici. - 2013 |
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Abraham Davenport amid angels Annabel Lee Auber Azteque beauty bells beneath bird bloom Born breath bright child clouds cold Dæmon dark dead death deep door dream earth eternal evermore eyes face fair fear feet flow flowers gentle gleam glow gold gone grave green grey hand hath hear heard heart heaven hills Israfel lake land leaves Leaves of Grass light living lonely look Lord Martha Mason MEXITLIS moon morning mountain murmuring never night o'er passed pine Pleiads poems Quoth the Raven Ramoth red levin rill river round Saadi seemed shade shadows shalt shining shore sigh silent sing skies sleep smile snow song soul sound Spring stars stream strong summer sweet tell thine thou thought of thee tree voice walked Walt Whitman wandered waters wave weary wild wind wings wood
Oblíbené pasáže
Strana 10 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way...
Strana 204 - And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me.
Strana 281 - THERE was a child went forth every day, And the first object he look'd upon, that object he became, And that object became part of him for the day or a certain part of the day, Or for many years or stretching cycles of years.
Strana 226 - Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore: Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of 'Never — nevermore.
Strana 15 - Thou shalt lie down With patriarchs of the infant world — with kings, The powerful of the earth — the wise, the good, Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, All in one mighty sepulcher.
Strana 203 - IT WAS many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of ANNABEL LEE; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.
Strana 223 - Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and. curious volume of forgotten lore — While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. " "Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door — Only this and nothing more.
Strana 16 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, that moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Strana 323 - For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck You've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is...
Strana 216 - The skies they were ashen and sober; The leaves they were crisped and sere — The leaves they were withering and sere; It was night in the lonesome October Of my most immemorial year...