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Page 8
... 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 lives immortal as the verse of Gray , In sable ...
... 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 lives immortal as the verse of Gray , In sable ...
Page 10
... ; He who is wearied of his village plain May roam the Edens of the world in vain . ' Tis not the star - crowned cliff , the cataract's flow , The softer foliage , or the greener glow , The lake of sapphire , or the spar - hung 10 POETRY ;
... ; He who is wearied of his village plain May roam the Edens of the world in vain . ' Tis not the star - crowned cliff , the cataract's flow , The softer foliage , or the greener glow , The lake of sapphire , or the spar - hung 10 POETRY ;
Page 24
... memory to the gate of Troy Her plumed defender and his trembling boy ? Lo the blind dreamer , kneeling on the sand , To trace these records with his doubtful hand ; In fabled tones his own emotion flows , And other 24 POETRY ;
... memory to the gate of Troy Her plumed defender and his trembling boy ? Lo the blind dreamer , kneeling on the sand , To trace these records with his doubtful hand ; In fabled tones his own emotion flows , And other 24 POETRY ;
Page 25
Oliver Wendell Holmes. In fabled tones his own emotion flows , And other lips repeat his silent woes ; In Hector's infant see the babes that shun Those deathlike eyes , unconscious of the sun , Or in his hero hear himself implore ...
Oliver Wendell Holmes. In fabled tones his own emotion flows , And other lips repeat his silent woes ; In Hector's infant see the babes that shun Those deathlike eyes , unconscious of the sun , Or in his hero hear himself implore ...
Page 50
... flow again . If by Helvetia's azure lake , Or Arno's yellow stream , Each star of memory could awake , As 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 ...
... flow again . If by Helvetia's azure lake , Or Arno's yellow stream , Each star of memory could awake , As 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 ...
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ancient arms beam beneath biped blaze blue breast breath bright brow burning cheek cherubs child clouds Copp's Hill curls dark dead dear dream dust earth faded fair faithless flame floating flowers fold friends fustian gale girls glance gleam glow golden grave green hand hear heart Heaven hills hour Iliad Katydid kerchief leaf leaves lift light lips living look lyre maid Marseilles memory Mont Blanc morning Muse naiad o'er once pale pennon percussion cap poet poet's Puritan restless heart ring roll rose round sachem shade shadows shalt shore side sigh silent skies smile song soul spectre star stethoscope stream sweet swell tears tell thee thine thou thought thrill tide toil tone tread trembling voice wandered warm wave weep wild winds wine wings 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 85 - THE LAST LEAF I saw him once before, As he passed by the door, And again The pavement stones resound As he totters o'er the ground With his cane. They say that in his prime, Ere the pruning-knife of Time Cut him down, Not a better man was found 10 By the Crier on his round Through the town.
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 145 - Then up arose the oysterman, and to himself said he, "I guess I'll leave the skiff at home, for fear that folks should see: I read it in the story-book, that, for to kiss his dear, Leander swam the Hellespont, — and I will swim this here.
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 269 - T was filled with caudle spiced and hot and handed smoking round. " But, changing hands, it reached at length a Puritan divine, Who used to follow Timothy, and take a little wine, But hated punch and prelacy ; and so it was, perhaps, He went to Leyden, where he found conventicles and schnaps.
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 273 - ... a young man in Boston town, He bought him a stethoscope nice and new, All mounted and finished and polished down, With an ivory cap and a stopper too. It happened a spider within did crawl, And spun him a web of ample size, Wherein there chanced one day to fall A couple of very imprudent flies. The first was a bottle-fly, big and blue, The second was smaller, and thin and long ; So there was a concert between the two, Like an octave flute and a tavern gong.
Page 129 - It is a joy to straighten out one's limbs, And leap elastic from the level counter, Leaving the petty grievances of earth, The breaking thread, the din of clashing shears, And all the needles that do wound the spirit, For such a pensive hour of soothing silence.
Page 187 - Hark ! the death-volley around them is ringing— Look ! with their life-blood the young grass is wet. Faint is the feeble breath, Murmuring low in death— " Tell to our sons how their fathers have died ;