Songs of Three CenturiesJohn Greenleaf Whittier J.R. Osgood, 1875 - 352 páginas |
Dentro del libro
Resultados 1-5 de 81
Página xi
... HOUR OF NIGHT THE VALE OF AVOCA 66 66 109 66 66 66 110 Robert Southey • • 117 66 66 117 66 66 118 Charles Lamb 120 66 66 120 66 " 6 120 James Hogg 121 " " 66 121 Thomas Moore 123 66 66 124 66 66 124 STANZAS WRITTEN IN DEJECTION NEAR ...
... HOUR OF NIGHT THE VALE OF AVOCA 66 66 109 66 66 66 110 Robert Southey • • 117 66 66 117 66 66 118 Charles Lamb 120 66 66 120 66 " 6 120 James Hogg 121 " " 66 121 Thomas Moore 123 66 66 124 66 66 124 STANZAS WRITTEN IN DEJECTION NEAR ...
Página xxv
... Hour of Night , The 124 O Thou who dry'st the Mourner's Tear . 124 PHELPS , ELIZABETH STUART . All the Rivers Vale of Avoca , The 124 Thou art , O God ! MORRIS , WILLIAM . . 124 On the Bridge of Sighs PIATT , JOHN JAMES . The Morning ...
... Hour of Night , The 124 O Thou who dry'st the Mourner's Tear . 124 PHELPS , ELIZABETH STUART . All the Rivers Vale of Avoca , The 124 Thou art , O God ! MORRIS , WILLIAM . . 124 On the Bridge of Sighs PIATT , JOHN JAMES . The Morning ...
Página 3
... hour ; And Death in time doth change It to a clod of clay ; When as the mind , which is divine , Runs never to decay . Companion none is like Unto the mind alone , For many have been harmed by speech , Through thinking , few , or none ...
... hour ; And Death in time doth change It to a clod of clay ; When as the mind , which is divine , Runs never to decay . Companion none is like Unto the mind alone , For many have been harmed by speech , Through thinking , few , or none ...
Página 19
... hours . Such when I meant to feign , and wished to see , My Muse bade , Bedford write , and that was she . THE SWEET NEGLECT . STILL to be neat , still to be drest , As you were going to a feast : Still to be powdered , still perfumed ...
... hours . Such when I meant to feign , and wished to see , My Muse bade , Bedford write , and that was she . THE SWEET NEGLECT . STILL to be neat , still to be drest , As you were going to a feast : Still to be powdered , still perfumed ...
Página 28
... hour a step towards thee . At night , when I betake to rest , Next morn I rise nearer my west Of life , almost by eight hours ' sail , Than when sleep breathed his drowsy gale . Thus from the sun my vessel steers , And my day's compass ...
... hour a step towards thee . At night , when I betake to rest , Next morn I rise nearer my west Of life , almost by eight hours ' sail , Than when sleep breathed his drowsy gale . Thus from the sun my vessel steers , And my day's compass ...
Índice
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Términos y frases comunes
angels beauty BEGONE DULL CARE bells beneath bird blessed bliss bonnie Braes breast breath bright busk calm Christabel clouds dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth EDMUND SPENSER Edom eternal eyes face fair fear flowers frae Glenlogie glory golden grace grave green Grongar Hill hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill holy hour Hymn Inchcape Rock JOHN BYROM Kilmeny kiss lady land lassie light live Lochaber lonely look Lord maun mind morning mourn ne'er never night o'er praise rest rose round Saint Agnes SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE scorn shade shine shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars sweet tears tell thee thine thou art thought tree unto vale voice wandering waves weary weel ween weep wild WILLIAM SHENSTONE wind wings Yarrow
Pasajes populares
Página 125 - But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider, distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail ; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
Página 66 - Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side; But in his duty prompt at every call, He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all: And, as a bird each fond endearment tries, To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Página 209 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Página 30 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Página 125 - For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!
Página 160 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags Plying her needle and thread — Stitch ! stitch ! stitch ! In poverty, hunger and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, Would that its tone could reach the rich ! She sang this "Song of the Shirt.
Página 223 - Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, Child of the wandering sea,
Página 37 - The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
Página 97 - No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay...
Página 223 - Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, Child of the wandering sea, Cast from her lap, forlorn! From thy dead lips a clearer note is born Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn!