Little Classics, Volume 14Rossiter Johnson Houghton, Mifflin, 1875 |
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Page 6
... DEATH OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON 199 • 202 · Alfred Tennyson . € 207 ODE RECITED AT THE HARVARD COMMEMORATION , JULY 21 , 1865 · • James Russell Lowell . . 217 LOCKSLEY HALL . BY ALFRED TENNYSON . OMRADES , leave vi CONTENTS .
... DEATH OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON 199 • 202 · Alfred Tennyson . € 207 ODE RECITED AT THE HARVARD COMMEMORATION , JULY 21 , 1865 · • James Russell Lowell . . 217 LOCKSLEY HALL . BY ALFRED TENNYSON . OMRADES , leave vi CONTENTS .
Page 23
... death and genius ripen toward the tomb ; And earth each day , as some fond face at parting , gains a graver grace . There's not a flower , there's not a tree in this old garden where we sit , But that some fragrant memory is closed and ...
... death and genius ripen toward the tomb ; And earth each day , as some fond face at parting , gains a graver grace . There's not a flower , there's not a tree in this old garden where we sit , But that some fragrant memory is closed and ...
Page 26
... death will come before again I breathe that name untouched by pain . From little things , - a star , a flower , that touched us with the selfsame thought , My passion deepened hour by hour , until to that fierce heat ' t was wrought ...
... death will come before again I breathe that name untouched by pain . From little things , - a star , a flower , that touched us with the selfsame thought , My passion deepened hour by hour , until to that fierce heat ' t was wrought ...
Page 32
... Death . And sometimes , glimpses from within of glory ( wondrous sight and sound ! ) Float near me : faces pure from sin ; strange music ; saints with splendor crowned : I seem to feel my native air blow down from 32 LITTLE CLASSICS .
... Death . And sometimes , glimpses from within of glory ( wondrous sight and sound ! ) Float near me : faces pure from sin ; strange music ; saints with splendor crowned : I seem to feel my native air blow down from 32 LITTLE CLASSICS .
Page 35
... " In Beloved , but let your smile stay warm about me . the Lord they sleep . " ... You know the words the Scripture saith O light , O Glory ! . . . is this death ? DIVIDED . BY JEAN INGELOW . I. IN empty sky GOOD - NIGHT IN THE PORCH . 35.
... " In Beloved , but let your smile stay warm about me . the Lord they sleep . " ... You know the words the Scripture saith O light , O Glory ! . . . is this death ? DIVIDED . BY JEAN INGELOW . I. IN empty sky GOOD - NIGHT IN THE PORCH . 35.
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Common terms and phrases
ALFRED TENNYSON blow bonnets of bonnie bonnie Dundee boys brave breast breath bright cowslips crown Cusha dark dead dear death doth dream earth eyes fall feel fill flower Fontenoy forever Freedom's ahead galloped gang free glory glow golden hand hath head hear heard heart heaven honor JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL JEAN INGELOW JOHN MILTON kiss land let us gang life's light lips live Lochiel Locksley Hall long thoughts look Lord Lycidas morn mourn Neath nebber never night o'er open the Westport pain pale flower passion primroses rise ROBERT BUCHANAN round saddle your horses shadow shadows rise shining shore sigh silent sing smile song soul sound spring star sweet tears thee thine things thou thoughts of youth toil uppe voice wander wave weep Westport and let wheel wild WILLIAM MOTHERWELL wind wind's youth are long
Popular passages
Page 15 - Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new : That which they have done but earnest of the things that they shall do...
Page 60 - Shaped by himself with newly-learned art ; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral ; And this hath now his heart, And unto this he frames his song : Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife ; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little actor cons another part ; Filling from time to time his
Page 122 - The hand that rounded Peter's dome, And groined the aisles of Christian Rome, Wrought in a sad sincerity ; Himself from God he could not free ; He builded better than he knew ; — The conscious stone to beauty grew.
Page 69 - Hence, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy, Find out some uncouth cell, Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night-raven sings; There under ebon shades and low-browed rocks, As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
Page 97 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
Page 61 - Thou little child, yet glorious in the might Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height, Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke, Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife ? Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight, And custom lie upon thee with a weight, Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life...
Page 224 - Great captains, with their guns and drums, Disturb our judgment for the hour, But at last silence comes; These all are gone, and, standing like a tower, Our children shall behold his fame, The kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeing man, Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame, New birth of our new soil, the first American.
Page 98 - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind, The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
Page 128 - Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in His hand Who saith, "A whole I planned, Youth shows but half; trust God; see all, nor be afraid!
Page 113 - Last came, and last did go The pilot of the Galilean lake; Two massy keys he bore of metals twain (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain) ; He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake: 'How well could I have spared for thee, young swain, Enow of such, as for their bellies' sake Creep and intrude and climb into the fold!