Favorite Poems: Selected from English and American AuthorsThomas Y. Crowell & Company, 1884 - 456 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 29
Page 25
... beneath the shade For talking age , and whispering lovers made ! How often have I blessed the coming day , When toil remitting lent its aid to play , And all the village train , from labor free , Led up their sports beneath the ...
... beneath the shade For talking age , and whispering lovers made ! How often have I blessed the coming day , When toil remitting lent its aid to play , And all the village train , from labor free , Led up their sports beneath the ...
Page 30
... Beneath those rugged elms , that yew - tree's shade , Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap , Each in his narrow cell forever laid , The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep . The breezy call of incense - breathing morn , The ...
... Beneath those rugged elms , that yew - tree's shade , Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap , Each in his narrow cell forever laid , The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep . The breezy call of incense - breathing morn , The ...
Page 31
... beneath their sturdy stroke ! Let not ambition mock their useful toil , Their homely joy , and destiny obscure ; Nor Grandeur hear , with a disdainful smile , The short and simple annals of the poor . The boast of heraldry , the pomp of ...
... beneath their sturdy stroke ! Let not ambition mock their useful toil , Their homely joy , and destiny obscure ; Nor Grandeur hear , with a disdainful smile , The short and simple annals of the poor . The boast of heraldry , the pomp of ...
Page 34
... beneath yon aged thorn . " THE EPITAPH . Here rests his head upon the lap of earth A youth , to fortune and to fame unknown : Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth , And Melancholy marked him for her own . Large was his bounty ...
... beneath yon aged thorn . " THE EPITAPH . Here rests his head upon the lap of earth A youth , to fortune and to fame unknown : Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth , And Melancholy marked him for her own . Large was his bounty ...
Page 42
... moon divine Rells through the dark - blue depths . Beneath her steady ray The desert - circle spreads Like the ocean girdled with the sky . How beautiful is night ! THE SNOW STORM . 43 The Snow Storm . Emerson Southey.
... moon divine Rells through the dark - blue depths . Beneath her steady ray The desert - circle spreads Like the ocean girdled with the sky . How beautiful is night ! THE SNOW STORM . 43 The Snow Storm . Emerson Southey.
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Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
angels Anon Babie Bell Bayard Taylor beauty bells beneath bird blessed bloom bosom bowers breast breath breeze BRIDGE OF SIGHS bright brow Burns cheek cold dark dead dear death deep dream dreamt of Heaven earth eyes face faded fair fear feet fire Forever never gazed glory gone grave HALLOWEEN hand hath hear heard heart heavenly hills hope hour Inchcape Rock life's light lips live lonely look Lycidas MAUD MULLER moon morn mother nectarian Never forever Nevermore night o'er pale prayer rest rocks round Rule Britannia shine shore sigh silent SKELETON IN ARMOR sleep smile snow song sorrow soul spirit stars stood sweet T. B. Aldrich tears thee thine thou art thou hast thought tide toil tree Twas voice wandering waves weary Whyles wild wind young youth
Popular passages
Page 25 - THE DESERTED VILLAGE SWEET AUBURN! loveliest village of the plain; Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain, Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed : Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please...
Page 160 - Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side ; But in his duty prompt at every call, He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all...
Page 27 - Now came still evening on, and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad ; Silence accompanied ; for beast and bird, They to their grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale, She all night long her amorous descant sung...
Page 151 - Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Page 26 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs - and God has given my share I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
Page 99 - But that the dread of something after death, — The undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, — puzzles the will ; And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
Page 35 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
Page 178 - And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor: And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted — nevermore...
Page 159 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was, to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year, Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place...
Page 422 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log, at last, dry, bald, and sere: A lily of a day, Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall, and die that night; It was the plant, and flower of light. In small proportions, we just beauties see: And in short measures, life may perfect be.