A New Library of Poetry and Song, Volume 2William Cullen Bryant |
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Page 464
William Cullen Bryant. Thrice your number lie asleep , In that valley dark and deep . Weak and wounded you retire From that hurricane of fire , That tempestuous storm of fire , — But no soldiers , firmer , braver , - Ever trod the field ...
William Cullen Bryant. Thrice your number lie asleep , In that valley dark and deep . Weak and wounded you retire From that hurricane of fire , That tempestuous storm of fire , — But no soldiers , firmer , braver , - Ever trod the field ...
Page 481
... deep is their watery grave . From the Welsh of TALHAIARN , by THOMAS OLIPHANT . THE SOLDIER'S RETURN . How sweet it was to breathe that cooler air , And take possession of my father's chair ! Beneath my elbow , on the solid frame ...
... deep is their watery grave . From the Welsh of TALHAIARN , by THOMAS OLIPHANT . THE SOLDIER'S RETURN . How sweet it was to breathe that cooler air , And take possession of my father's chair ! Beneath my elbow , on the solid frame ...
Page 484
... deep silence , like the fearful calm That slumbers in the storm's portentous pause ; Save when the frantic wail of widowed love Comes shuddering on the blast , or the faint moan With which some soul bursts from the frame of clay Wrapt ...
... deep silence , like the fearful calm That slumbers in the storm's portentous pause ; Save when the frantic wail of widowed love Comes shuddering on the blast , or the faint moan With which some soul bursts from the frame of clay Wrapt ...
Page 488
William Cullen Bryant. Call ye coward him who stood Ankle - deep in Lutzen's blood , With the brave Gustavus ? " " Nay , I do not need thy sword , Comrade mine , " said Ury's lord ; " Put it up , I pray thee . Passive to his holy will ...
William Cullen Bryant. Call ye coward him who stood Ankle - deep in Lutzen's blood , With the brave Gustavus ? " " Nay , I do not need thy sword , Comrade mine , " said Ury's lord ; " Put it up , I pray thee . Passive to his holy will ...
Page 494
... deep anguish hide , Wipe from her cheek the tear ; Mark her dimmed eye , her furrowed brow , The gray that streaks her dark hair now , The toil - worn frame , the trembling limb , And trace the ruin back to him Whose plighted faith , in ...
... deep anguish hide , Wipe from her cheek the tear ; Mark her dimmed eye , her furrowed brow , The gray that streaks her dark hair now , The toil - worn frame , the trembling limb , And trace the ruin back to him Whose plighted faith , in ...
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Common terms and phrases
ALEXANDER POPE ALFRED TENNYSON Anne Hathaway arms beauty bells BEN JONSON beneath blessed blood blow blue brave breast breath bright brow clouds cried crown dark dead dear death Deborah Lee deep doth dream earth eyes face fair fame fear fell FITZ-GREENE HALLECK flowers frae gazed glory gold grace grave gray green hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER king land Lars Porsena light lips live look Lord LORD BYRON moon morning ne'er never nevermore night o'er Osawatomie peace roar ROBERT BURNS rock rose round shine shore silent sing sleep smile song soul sound stars steed stood stream sweet sword tears tell thee thine things thou thought thunder toil voice wave wild WILLIAM COWPER wind wings wonder
Popular passages
Page 626 - Earth has not anything to show more fair : Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers,, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Page 815 - MILTON ! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Page 556 - Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword: His truth is marching on.
Page 783 - Twas sad as sad could be; And we did speak only to break The silence of the sea! All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean. Water, water, everywhere, And all the boards did shrink; Water, water everywhere Nor any drop to drink.
Page 709 - To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull Night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise; Then to come, in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good morrow, Through the sweet-brier, or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine...
Page 461 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet — But hark!
Page 818 - Peace to all such! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; Blest with each talent, and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease; Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Page 723 - The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Page 709 - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful jollity, Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek : Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come, and trip it as you go, On the light fantastic toe...
Page 657 - Hear the tolling of the bells Iron bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people - ah, the people They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who tolling, tolling...