PoemsTicknor, Reed & Fields, 1850 - 286 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 18
Page 8
... meet ; The sweet Spenserian , gathering as it flows , Sweeps gently onward to its dying close , Where waves on waves in long succession pour , Till the ninth billow melts along the shore ; The lonely spirit of the mournful lay , Which ...
... meet ; The sweet Spenserian , gathering as it flows , Sweeps gently onward to its dying close , Where waves on waves in long succession pour , Till the ninth billow melts along the shore ; The lonely spirit of the mournful lay , Which ...
Page 33
... meet , but only found their graves ; If friendship's smile , the better part of fame , Should lend my song the only wreath I claim , Whose voice would greet me with a sweeter tone , Whose living hand more kindly press my own , Than ...
... meet , but only found their graves ; If friendship's smile , the better part of fame , Should lend my song the only wreath I claim , Whose voice would greet me with a sweeter tone , Whose living hand more kindly press my own , Than ...
Page 48
... meet again , " I dreamed not in that idle glance Thy latest image came , And only left to memory's trance A shadow and a name . The few strange words my lips had taught Thy timid voice to speak , Their gentler signs , which often ...
... meet again , " I dreamed not in that idle glance Thy latest image came , And only left to memory's trance A shadow and a name . The few strange words my lips had taught Thy timid voice to speak , Their gentler signs , which often ...
Page 49
... meet no more , Nor dream what fates befall ; And long upon the stranger's shore My voice on thee may call , When years have clothed the line in moss , That tells thy name and days , And withered , on thy simple cross , The wreaths of ...
... meet no more , Nor dream what fates befall ; And long upon the stranger's shore My voice on thee may call , When years have clothed the line in moss , That tells thy name and days , And withered , on thy simple cross , The wreaths of ...
Page 50
... in my first young dream , I know that when mine eye shall greet The hill - sides bleak and bare , That gird my home , it will not meet My childhood's sunsets there . O when love's first , sweet , stolen kiss Burned AN EVENING THOUGHT.
... in my first young dream , I know that when mine eye shall greet The hill - sides bleak and bare , That gird my home , it will not meet My childhood's sunsets there . O when love's first , sweet , stolen kiss Burned AN EVENING THOUGHT.
Contents
142 | |
144 | |
151 | |
158 | |
164 | |
171 | |
180 | |
186 | |
85 | |
91 | |
97 | |
106 | |
118 | |
124 | |
130 | |
136 | |
193 | |
207 | |
243 | |
249 | |
260 | |
267 | |
278 | |
285 | |
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
arms beam beneath BERKSHIRE FESTIVAL biped blue bosom breast breath bright brow burning cheek child clouds curls dark dark hunters dead dear devil's path dream earth faded fainting fair flame float flower fold Four freshmen friends gale giant girl gleam glow golden grave green hair hath hear heart Heaven hill hour I'm wide awake Katydid leaf leaves light Lily lips living look lyre maid morning night o'er once oysterman pale percussion cap Pig must die poet's quivering restless heart ringing rolling rose round seven mornings shade shining shore side sigh silent skies smile song soul star stethoscope stranger stream sweet tears tell thee thine thou hast thou shalt thought thrills thunders tide toil tread trembling tyrant band voice wandered wave weep wild winds wing Yankee girls young
Popular passages
Page 22 - AY, tear her tattered ensign down ! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky ; Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar ; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more ! Her deck, once red with heroes...
Page 269 - And all his sturdy men-at-arms were ranged about the board. He poured the fiery Hollands in, — the man that never feared, — He took a long and solemn draught, and wiped his yellow beard; And one by one the musketeers — the men that fought and prayed — All drank as 'twere their mother's milk, and not a man afraid.
Page 229 - Once more ; speak clearly, if you speak at all ; Carve every word before you let it fall...
Page 85 - Ere the priming-knife of Time Cut him down, Not a better man was found By the Crier on his round Through the town. But now he walks the streets, And he looks at all he meets Sad and wan, And he shakes his feeble head, That it seems as if he said,
Page 270 - ... fifty more had spread their leaves and snows. A thousand rubs had flattened down each little cherub's nose ; When once again the bowl was filled, but not in mirth or joy, 'Twas mingled by a mother's hand to cheer her parting boy. Drink, John...
Page 91 - Thou say'st an undisputed thing In such a solemn way. Thou art a female, Katydid! I know it by the trill That quivers through thy piercing notes, So petulant and shrill...
Page 23 - Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, And waves were white below, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee;— The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea.
Page 87 - My grandmamma has said — Poor old lady, she is dead Long ago— That he had a Roman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow. But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here; But the old three-cornered hat, And the breeches, and all that, Are so queer! And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the tree In the spring, Let them smile, as I do now, At...
Page 145 - Oh there were kisses sweet as dew, and words as soft as rain, — But they have heard her father's step, and in he leaps again! Out spoke the ancient fisherman, — " Oh, what was that, my daughter ? " " 'T was nothing but a pebble, sir, I threw into the water.
Page 231 - Wear seemly gloves ; not black, nor yet too light, And least of all the pair that once was white ; Let the dead party where you told your loves Bury in peace its dead bouquets and gloves ; Shave like the goat, if so your fancy bids, But be a parent, — don't neglect your kids.