Poems, Volume 2Ticknor, Reed, and Fields, 1853 |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 54
Page 3
... unknown shore , Their used familiar since the dawn of time , Whither this foredoomed life an eminent surge Chance - heaped a breath's space o'er the weltering press , With deeper grip clutching the tide's green mane And later COLUMBUS.
... unknown shore , Their used familiar since the dawn of time , Whither this foredoomed life an eminent surge Chance - heaped a breath's space o'er the weltering press , With deeper grip clutching the tide's green mane And later COLUMBUS.
Page 6
... o'er - hasty chisel - dint oft mars , Scanting our room to cut the features out Of our full hope , so forcing us to crown With a mean head the perfect limbs , or leave The god's face glowing o'er a satyr's trunk , Failure's brief ...
... o'er - hasty chisel - dint oft mars , Scanting our room to cut the features out Of our full hope , so forcing us to crown With a mean head the perfect limbs , or leave The god's face glowing o'er a satyr's trunk , Failure's brief ...
Page 7
... O'er his own selfish hoard at bay ; no state , Knit strongly with eternal fibres up Of all men's separate and united weals , Self - poised and sole as stars , yet one as light , Holds up a shape of large Humanity To which by natural ...
... O'er his own selfish hoard at bay ; no state , Knit strongly with eternal fibres up Of all men's separate and united weals , Self - poised and sole as stars , yet one as light , Holds up a shape of large Humanity To which by natural ...
Page 11
... O'er the huge whisper of great watery wastes , The while a pair of herons trailingly Flapped inland , where some league - wide river hurled The yellow spoil of unconjectured realms Far through a gulf's green silence , never scarred By ...
... O'er the huge whisper of great watery wastes , The while a pair of herons trailingly Flapped inland , where some league - wide river hurled The yellow spoil of unconjectured realms Far through a gulf's green silence , never scarred By ...
Page 12
... o'er That iron bridge the Tuscan built to hell , 1 I heard Ulysses tell of mountain - chains Whose adamantine links , his manacles , The western main shook growling , and still gnawed ; I brooded on the wise Athenian's tale Of happy ...
... o'er That iron bridge the Tuscan built to hell , 1 I heard Ulysses tell of mountain - chains Whose adamantine links , his manacles , The western main shook growling , and still gnawed ; I brooded on the wise Athenian's tale Of happy ...
Common terms and phrases
angel arms behold beneath blind blood bring clear cloud cold comes crown dark dear death deep doth dream drop dumb dust earth ends eyes face faith fall feel feet fire Freedom Future gates gives gleam glow God's gold golden green grew grows half hands happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven holds Holy hope Hunger hush keep land leap leaves light living look Lord morning Nature neath never night o'er once Past poor rain rest round seems sense shadow shape shine side sight silence sing smiles snow soul spirit spring stand stood stream stretch summer sunshine tears thee thine thing thou thought tree true Truth turn wall wander wast waves wind winter wood wrong
Popular passages
Page 62 - New occasions teach new duties ; Time makes ancient good uncouth ; They must upward still, and onward, who would keep abreast of Truth ; Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires ! we ourselves must Pilgrims be, Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the desperate winter sea, Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's blood-rusted key.
Page 119 - Tis the Spring's largess, which she scatters now To rich and poor alike, with lavish hand, Though most hearts never understand To take it at God's value, but pass by The offered wealth with unrewarded eye.
Page 120 - My childhood's earliest thoughts are linked with thee ; The sight of thee calls back the robin's song, Who, from the dark old tree Beside the door, sang clearly all day long, And I, secure in childish piety, Listened as if I heard an angel sing With news from heaven, which he could bring Fresh every day to my untainted ears When birds and flowers and I were happy peers.
Page 109 - He's true to God who's true to man ; wherever wrong is done, To the humblest and the weakest, 'neath the all-beholding sun, That wrong is also done to us ; and they are slaves most base, Whose love of right is for themselves, and not for all their race.
Page 187 - OVER his keys the musing organist, Beginning doubtfully and far away, First lets his fingers wander as they list. And builds a bridge from Dreamland for his lay : Then, as the touch of his loved instrument Gives hope and fervor, nearer draws his theme, First guessed by faint auroral flushes sent Along the wavering vista of his dream.
Page 55 - Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide, In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side...
Page 207 - As Sir Launfal mused with a downcast face, A light shone round about the place ; The leper no longer crouched at his side, But stood before him glorified, Shining and tall and fair and straight As the pillar that stood by the Beautiful Gate, — Himself the Gate whereby men can Enter the temple of God in Man.
Page 209 - As the hangbird is to the elm-tree bough; No longer scowl the turrets tall, The Summer's long siege at last is o'er; When the first poor outcast went in at the door, She entered with him in disguise, And mastered the fortress by surprise; There is no spot she loves so well on ground, She lingers and smiles there the whole year round; The meanest serf on Sir Launfal's land Has hall and bower at his command; And there's no poor man in the North Countree But is lord of the earldom as much as he.
Page 60 - For Humanity sweeps onward : where to-day the martyr stands, On the morrow crouches Judas with the silver in his hands ; Far in front the cross stands ready and the crackling fagots burn, While the hooting mob of yesterday in silent awe return To glean up the scattered ashes into History's golden urn.
Page 54 - Freedom, through the broad earth's aching breast Runs a thrill of joy prophetic, trembling on from east to west, And the slave, where'er he cowers, feels the soul within him climb To the awful verge of manhood, as the energy sublime Of a century bursts full-blossomed on the thorny stem of Time. / Through the walls of hut and palace shoots the instantaneous throe, When the travail of the Ages wrings earth's systems to and fro; At the birth of each new Era, with a recognizing start, Nation wildly looks...