Voices of the NightJ. Owen, 1840 - 144 pages |
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Page 39
... vale . O'er the bare upland , and away Through the long reach of desert woods , The embracing sunbeams chastely play , And gladden these deep solitudes . Where , twisted round the barren oak , The summer 39 Woods in Winter.
... vale . O'er the bare upland , and away Through the long reach of desert woods , The embracing sunbeams chastely play , And gladden these deep solitudes . Where , twisted round the barren oak , The summer 39 Woods in Winter.
Page 40
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Where , twisted round the barren oak , The summer vine in beauty clung , And summer winds the stillness broke , The crystal icicle is hung . Where , from their frozen urns , mute springs Pour out the river's ...
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Where , twisted round the barren oak , The summer vine in beauty clung , And summer winds the stillness broke , The crystal icicle is hung . Where , from their frozen urns , mute springs Pour out the river's ...
Page 44
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. " Take thy banner ! But , when night Closes round the ghastly fight , If the vanquished warrior bow , Spare him ! - By our holy vow , By our prayers and many tears , By the mercy that endears , Spare him ! he ...
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. " Take thy banner ! But , when night Closes round the ghastly fight , If the vanquished warrior bow , Spare him ! - By our holy vow , By our prayers and many tears , By the mercy that endears , Spare him ! he ...
Page 45
... round the wooded height , And , in their fading - glory , shone Like hosts in battle overthrown , As many a pinnacle , with shifting glance , Through the gray mist thrust up its shattered lance , And rocking on the cliff was left The ...
... round the wooded height , And , in their fading - glory , shone Like hosts in battle overthrown , As many a pinnacle , with shifting glance , Through the gray mist thrust up its shattered lance , And rocking on the cliff was left The ...
Page 51
... a joy To have it round us , and her silver voice - Is the rich music of a summer bird , Heard in the still night , with its passionate ca- dence . BURIAL OF THE MINNISINK . ON sunny slope and beechen THE SPIRIT OF POETRY . 51.
... a joy To have it round us , and her silver voice - Is the rich music of a summer bird , Heard in the still night , with its passionate ca- dence . BURIAL OF THE MINNISINK . ON sunny slope and beechen THE SPIRIT OF POETRY . 51.
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Common terms and phrases
amid arms autumn beautiful behold Beware bird Bishop of Avranches blue blush brave breast breath bright brooklet castle cloak and shroud clouds dark dead Death deep doth dreams dwell earth Euroclydon faint fear flowerets flowers fooling thee forest glorious glory golden grave green hand heart heaven hills holy hymn Jorge Manrique leaves Life's light of stars LOPE DE VEGA love and dreams Manrique marvellous tale midnight mist morning mournful night Nils Juel o'er Pentecost poem Pray prayer purple finch readest this brief Reaper red planet Mars shadows shalt know ere Silent Land silver silver beach skies soft solemn solemn masses song sorrows soul sound Spake spectral camp spirit Spring stern sunny sweet Take thy banner tears tender thine Thither thou shalt thou wouldst thy hopes depart trees Uclés unto vale voice wave white-thorn wild winds wings witch-hazel woodland youth
Popular passages
Page 16 - 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.
Page 7 - 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, Was not spoken of the soul.
Page 10 - I have naught that is fair ?" saith he ; "Have naught 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.
Page 44 - ... If the vanquished warrior bow, Spare him ! — By our holy vow, By our prayers and many tears, By the mercy that endears, Spare him ! — he our love hath shared ! Spare him ! — as thou wouldst be spared ! " Take thy banner ! — and if e'er Thou shouldst press the soldier's bier, And the muffled drum should beat To the tread of mournful feet, Then this crimson flag shall be Martial cloak and shroud for thee.
Page 27 - And the hooded clouds, like friars, Tell their beads in drops of rain, And patter their doleful prayers ; But their prayers are all in vain, All in vain...
Page 50 - Its presence shall uplift thy thoughts from earth, As to the sunshine and the pure, bright air Their tops the green trees lift. Hence gifted bards Have ever loved the calm and quiet shades. For them there was an eloquent voice in all The sylvan pomp of woods, the golden sun, The flowers, the leaves, the river on its way, Blue skies, and silver clouds, and gentle winds, — The swelling upland, where the sidelong sun Aslant the wooded slope, at evening, goes, — Groves, through whose broken roof...
Page 25 - And, when the solemn and deep church-bell Entreats the soul to pray, The midnight phantoms feel the spell The shadows sweep away. Down the broad Vale of Tears afar The spectral camp is fled ; Faith shineth as a morning star, Our ghastly fears are dead.
Page 9 - Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act, — act in the living Present ! Heart within, and God o'erhead! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time ; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to...
Page 24 - Down the broad valley fast and far The troubled army fled ; Up rose the glorious morning star, The ghastly host was dead. I have read, in the marvellous heart of man, That strange and mystic scroll, That an army of phantoms vast and wan Beleaguer the human soul.
Page 5 - Stoop o er me from above ; The calm, majestic presence of the Night, As of the one I love. I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, The manifold, soft chimes, That fill the haunted chambers of the Night, Like some old poet's rhymes.