The poetical works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, with explanatory notesG. Richards, 1903 |
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Page 2
... o'er - reaching far , Is hollowed out , and the moon dips her horn , And twinkles many a star . Inverted in the tide , Stand the grey rocks , and trembling shadows throw ; And the fair trees look over , side by side , And see themselves ...
... o'er - reaching far , Is hollowed out , and the moon dips her horn , And twinkles many a star . Inverted in the tide , Stand the grey rocks , and trembling shadows throw ; And the fair trees look over , side by side , And see themselves ...
Page 4
... o'er the vale , with gentle swell , The music of the village bell Came sweetly to the echo - giving hills ; And the wild horn , whose voice the woodland fills , Was ringing to the merry shout , That faint and far the glen sent out ...
... o'er the vale , with gentle swell , The music of the village bell Came sweetly to the echo - giving hills ; And the wild horn , whose voice the woodland fills , Was ringing to the merry shout , That faint and far the glen sent out ...
Page 6
... o'er the good and brave ; When the battle's distant wail Breaks the sabbath of our vale , When the clarion's music thrills To the hearts of these lone hills , When the spear in conflict shakes , And the strong lance shivering breaks ...
... o'er the good and brave ; When the battle's distant wail Breaks the sabbath of our vale , When the clarion's music thrills To the hearts of these lone hills , When the spear in conflict shakes , And the strong lance shivering breaks ...
Page 8
... O'er - riding the grey hills with golden scarf ; Or when the cowled and dusky - sandaled Eve , In mourning weeds , from out the western gate , Departs with silent pace ! That spirit moves In the green valley , where the silver brook ...
... O'er - riding the grey hills with golden scarf ; Or when the cowled and dusky - sandaled Eve , In mourning weeds , from out the western gate , Departs with silent pace ! That spirit moves In the green valley , where the silver brook ...
Page 12
... O'er meadow , lake , and stream . And dreams of that which cannot die , Bright visions , came to me , As lapped in thought I used to lie , And gaze into the summer sky , Where the sailing clouds went by , Like ships upon the sea ...
... O'er meadow , lake , and stream . And dreams of that which cannot die , Bright visions , came to me , As lapped in thought I used to lie , And gaze into the summer sky , Where the sailing clouds went by , Like ships upon the sea ...
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Common terms and phrases
Abbot Acadian Albrecht Dürer angel Balt beautiful behold BELFRY OF BRUGES bell beneath breath bright Bruges Carlos Charles the Bald child Chis Christ clouds Countess of Flanders CRUZADO dark dead death deep Don Carlos dream earth Elsie Evangeline evermore eyes face fear flowers forest Friar Cuthbert Gipsy gleam gold golden Gottlieb Grand-Pré Guy de Dampierre hand hear heard heart heaven Hoheneck holy Hypolito labour land Lara light lips look loud Lucifer maiden meadows midnight Minnesinger monk moon morning mystery night o'er ocean Padre passed Pray prayer Preciosa priest Prince Henry rain rise river roar sail Saint sang seemed shadows shining ships silent singing sleep song sorrow soul sound spake stand star stood sweet thee Thou art thou hast thought unto Ursula Vict village voice walls wandered wave weary wild wind window words yonder youth
Popular passages
Page 268 - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended But one dead lamb is there ! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair ! The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead ; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted...
Page 33 - Last night the moon had a golden ring, And to-night no moon we see! " The skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe, And a scornful laugh laughed he.
Page 269 - Nothing useless is, or low ; Each thing in its place is best ; And what seems but idle show, Strengthens and supports the rest.
Page 96 - I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me That my soul cannot resist: A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
Page 177 - Sprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the priest with his hyssop Sprinkles the congregation, and scatters blessings upon them, Down the long street she passed, with her chaplet of beads and her missal, Wearing her Norman cap, and her kirtle of blue, and the ear-rings, Brought in the olden time from France, and since, as an heirloom, Handed down from mother to child, through long generations. But a celestial brightness — a more ethereal beauty — Shone on her face and encircled her form, when,...
Page 15 - TELL me not, in mournful numbers, "Life is but an empty dream ! " For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal ; " Dust thou art, to dust returnest,'
Page 18 - saith he ; " Have nought but the bearded grain ? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again." He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. " My Lord has need of these flowerets gay...
Page 30 - Once as I told in glee Tales of the stormy sea, Soft eyes did gaze on me, Burning yet tender ; And as the white stars shine On the dark Norway pine, On that dark heart of mine Fell their soft splendor.
Page 28 - SPEAK! speak! thou fearful guest! Who, with thy hollow breast Still in rude armor drest, Comest to daunt me ! Wrapt not in Eastern balms, But with thy fleshless palms Stretched, as if asking alms, Why dost thou haunt me ? " Then, from those cavernous eyes Pale flashes seemed to rise, As when the Northern skies Gleam in December ; And, like the water's flow Under December's snow, Came a dull voice of woe From the heart's chamber. " I was a Viking old ! My deeds, though manifold, No...
Page 18 - And with them the Being Beauteous, Who unto my youth was given, More than all things else to love me, And is now a saint in heaven. With a slow and noiseless footstep Comes that messenger divine, Takes the vacant chair beside me, Lays her gentle hand in mine. And she sits and gazes at me With those deep and tender eyes, Like the stars, so still and saint-like, Looking downward from the skies...