The Poet's Gift: Illustrated by One of Her PaintersJohn Keese |
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Other editions - View all
The Poet's Gift: Illustrated by One of Her Painters (Classic Reprint) John Keese No preview available - 2016 |
Common terms and phrases
ALBERT PIKE autumn beams beautiful beneath bird blest bloom blossoms breast breath bright brow CARLOS WILCOX CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN chimes clouds dark deep dost dreams earth eternal FELICIA HEMANS flowers FRANCES SARGENT OSGOOD gaze gentle GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE Give me armour gleam glorious glory golden air graceful band grave green hath hear heart heaven hills holy hour hues leaves life's light lingers lone look lovelier melody morning mother mountain mournful murmur neath NORTH BURIAL GROUND o'er pale passed rest rolled round SCENE FROM HADAD shade shine shore sing skies sleep slumbers smile soft song soul sound spirit spring stars storm stream summer sweet swells tears thee thine Thou art thoughts throne tree twilight URSA MAJOR vale voice WASHINGTON ALLSTON watch waves weary wild WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT winds wings woods youthful
Popular passages
Page 37 - He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes.
Page 35 - The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
Page 20 - LOOK out upon the stars, my love, And shame them with thine eyes, On which, than on the lights above, There hang more destinies. Night's beauty is the harmony Of blending shades and light; Then, lady, up, — look out, and be A sister to the night! Sleep not! thine image wakes for aye Within my watching breast: 10 Sleep not! from her soft sleep should fly Who robs all hearts of rest.
Page 245 - STREAM of my fathers ! sweetly still The sunset rays thy valley fill ; Poured slantwise down the long defile, Wave, wood, and spire beneath them smile. I see the winding Powow fold The green hill in its belt of gold, And following down its wavy line, Its sparkling waters blend with thine. There 's not a tree upon thy side, Nor rock, which thy returning tide As yet hath left abrupt and stark Above thy evening water-mark ; No calm cove with its rocky hem...
Page 192 - The glory of Lebanon shall come unto thee, the fir tree, the pine tree, and the box together, to beautify the place of my sanctuary; and I will make the place of my feet glorious.
Page 95 - Beside the Moldau's rushing stream, With the wan moon overhead, There stood, as in an awful dream, The army of the dead. White as a sea-fog, landward bound, The spectral camp was seen, And, with a sorrowful, deep sound, The river flowed between. No other voice nor sound was there, No drum, nor sentry's pace; The mist-like banners clasped the air As clouds with clouds embrace. But when the old cathedral bell Proclaimed the morning prayer, The white pavilions rose and fell On the alarmed air.
Page 200 - Kishon, is sweeping along ; Where the Canaanite strove with Jehovah in vain. And thy torrent grew dark with the blood of the slain.
Page 98 - AYE, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath, When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf, And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, And the year smiles as it draws near its death. Wind of the sunny south ! oh, still delay In the gay woods and in the golden air, Like to a good old age released from care, Journeying, in long serenity, away.
Page 62 - That wait as satellites upon their power, And flourish in their smile. Awake, my soul, And meditate the wonder ! Countless suns Blaze round thee, leading forth their countless worlds! Worlds — in whose bosoms living things rejoice, And drink the bliss of being from the fount Of all-pervading love. What mind can know, What tongue can utter all their multitudes ! Thus numberless in numberless abodes ! Known but to Thee...
Page 36 - And children coming home from school Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chalT from a threshing-floor.