Alnwick Castle: With Other Poems |
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Page 21
... memory of her buried joys , And even she who gave thee birth , Will , by their pilgrim - circled hearth , Talk of thy doom without a sigh : For thou art Freedom's now , and Fame's ; One of the few , the immortal names , That were not ...
... memory of her buried joys , And even she who gave thee birth , Will , by their pilgrim - circled hearth , Talk of thy doom without a sigh : For thou art Freedom's now , and Fame's ; One of the few , the immortal names , That were not ...
Page 23
... memory , for whose sake My bosom bore thee far and long , His - who a humbler flower could make Immortal as his song , The memory of Burns - a name That calls , when brimmed her festal cup , A nation's glory , and her shame , In silent ...
... memory , for whose sake My bosom bore thee far and long , His - who a humbler flower could make Immortal as his song , The memory of Burns - a name That calls , when brimmed her festal cup , A nation's glory , and her shame , In silent ...
Page 30
... memories , Though with the buried gone . Such graves as his are pilgrim - shrines , Shrines to no code or creed confined , - The Delphian vales , the Palestines , The Meccas of the mind . Sages , with wisdom's garland wreathed , Crowned ...
... memories , Though with the buried gone . Such graves as his are pilgrim - shrines , Shrines to no code or creed confined , - The Delphian vales , the Palestines , The Meccas of the mind . Sages , with wisdom's garland wreathed , Crowned ...
Page 39
... -Greene Halleck. ON THE DEATH OF J. RODMAN DRAKE . 39 While memory bids me weep thee , Nor thoughts nor words are free , The grief is fixed too deeply That mourns a man like thee . TWILIGHT . THERE is an evening twilight of the heart.
... -Greene Halleck. ON THE DEATH OF J. RODMAN DRAKE . 39 While memory bids me weep thee , Nor thoughts nor words are free , The grief is fixed too deeply That mourns a man like thee . TWILIGHT . THERE is an evening twilight of the heart.
Page 50
... memories , as ye breathe That valley's storied name , FIELD OF THe grounded arms . Strangers no more , a kindred " pride of place , " Pride in the gift of country and of name Speaks in your eye and step- Ye tread your native land . And ...
... memories , as ye breathe That valley's storied name , FIELD OF THe grounded arms . Strangers no more , a kindred " pride of place , " Pride in the gift of country and of name Speaks in your eye and step- Ye tread your native land . And ...
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Common terms and phrases
Alloway ALNWICK autumn Babylon bard battle beauty beneath the sky bird bliss blue born bough bower Bozzaris brave breath bridal bright brow Burns cheek chivalry clime clouds cold cottage dark death doom dreams earth faded fame forest forest leaves funeral gallant gaze gentle Gertrude glory glory's glowing grave Greece green hair happy harp hath heard heart heaven hope hour King land leaf Lexington life's linger lisp listened lovelier lyre Magdalen maiden memory mind's minstrel monarch morn o'er Palestine POEMS Poet's daughter pride proud pure RED JACKET RODMAN DRAKE shade sings sires skies sleep slumbers smile song summer flowers sunbeam sunny sweet tears tells thee There's thine thou art thought throne tomb tree trod truth TUSCARORAS twilight wandering warm wave weep wild WILD ROSE wind wings WYOMING young youth
Popular passages
Page 16 - AT midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power ; In dreams, through camp and court, he bore The trophies of a conqueror ; In dreams his song of triumph heard. Then wore his monarch's signet ring, Then pressed that monarch's throne — a King ; As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden bird.
Page 37 - Green be the turf above thee, Friend of my better days! None knew thee but to love thee, Nor named thee but to praise.
Page 20 - She wore no funeral weeds for thee, Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume, Like torn branch from death's leafless tree, In sorrow's pomp and pageantry, The heartless luxury of the tomb : But she remembers thee as one Long loved and for a season gone. For thee her poets' lyre is wreathed. Her marble wrought, her music breathed : For thee she rings the birthday bells ; Of thee her babes...
Page 29 - Praise to the bard ! his words are driven, Like flower-seeds by the far winds sown, Where'er, beneath the sky of heaven, The birds of fame have flown. Praise to the man ! a nation stood Beside his coffin with wet eyes, Her brave, her beautiful, her good, As when a loved one dies.
Page 19 - That close the pestilence are broke, And crowded cities wail its stroke ; Come in consumption's ghastly form, The earthquake shock, the ocean storm ; Come when the heart beats high and warm With banquet song and dance and wine, — And thou art terrible ; the tear, The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, And all we know, or dream, or fear Of agony, are thine.
Page 87 - They love their land, because it is their own, And scorn to give aught other reason why ; Would shake hands with a king upon his throne, And think it kindness to his majesty; A stubborn race, fearing and flattering none.
Page 17 - At midnight, in the forest shades, Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band, True as the steel of their tried blades, Heroes in heart and hand. There had the Persian's thousands stood, There had the glad earth drunk their blood On old Plataea's day; And now there breathed that haunted air The sons of sires who conquered there, With arm to strike, and soul to dare, As quick, as far as they.
Page 31 - All ask the cottage of his birth, Gaze on the scenes he loved and sung, And gather feelings not of earth His fields and streams among. They linger by the Doon's low trees, And pastoral Nith, and wooded Ayr, And round thy sepulchres, Dumfries ! The poet's tomb is there.
Page 21 - Her soldier, closing with the foe, Gives for thy sake a deadlier blow; His plighted maiden, when she fears For him, the Joy of her young years, Thinks of thy fate and checks her tears. And she, the mother of thy boys. Though in her eye and faded cheek Is read the grief she will not speak, The memory of her buried Joys, And even she who gave thee birth, Will by their pilgrim-circled hearth Talk of thy doom without a sigh: For thou art freedom's now and fame's, One of the few, the immortal names, That...
Page 11 - That day its roof was triumph's arch ; Then rang, from aisle to pictured dome, The light step of the soldier's march, The music of the trump and drum ; And babe, and sire, the old, the young, And the monk's hymn, and minstrel's song, And woman's pure kiss, sweet and long, Welcomed her warrior home.