Poems, Volume 1Ticknor, Reed, and Fields, 1853 |
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Page 8
... Death , And , with his sickle keen , He reaps the bearded grain at a breath , And the flowers that grow between . " Shall I have nought that is fair ? " saith he ; " Have nought but the bearded grain ? Though the breath of these flowers ...
... Death , And , with his sickle keen , He reaps the bearded grain at a breath , And the flowers that grow between . " Shall I have nought that is fair ? " saith he ; " Have nought but the bearded grain ? Though the breath of these flowers ...
Page 26
... Death , with frosty hand and cold , Plucks the old man by the beard , Sorely , - sorely ! The leaves are falling , falling , Solemnly and slow ; Caw ! caw ! the rooks are calling , It is a sound of woe , A sound of woe ! Through woods ...
... Death , with frosty hand and cold , Plucks the old man by the beard , Sorely , - sorely ! The leaves are falling , falling , Solemnly and slow ; Caw ! caw ! the rooks are calling , It is a sound of woe , A sound of woe ! Through woods ...
Page 38
... and give him eloquent teachings . He shall so hear the solemn hymn , that Death Has lifted up for all , that he shall go To his long resting - place without a tear . WOODS IN WINTER . WHEN winter winds are piercing chill 38 EARLIER POEMS .
... and give him eloquent teachings . He shall so hear the solemn hymn , that Death Has lifted up for all , that he shall go To his long resting - place without a tear . WOODS IN WINTER . WHEN winter winds are piercing chill 38 EARLIER POEMS .
Page 54
... death dirge of the slain ; Behind , the long procession came Of hoary men and chiefs of fame , With heavy hearts , and eyes of grief , Leading the war - horse of their chief . Stripped of his proud and martial dress , Uncurbed ...
... death dirge of the slain ; Behind , the long procession came Of hoary men and chiefs of fame , With heavy hearts , and eyes of grief , Leading the war - horse of their chief . Stripped of his proud and martial dress , Uncurbed ...
Page 58
... death that called forth the poem upon which rests the literary reputation of the younger Manrique . In the language of his histo- rian , “ Don Jorge Manrique , in an elegant Ode , full of poetic beauties , rich embellishments of genius ...
... death that called forth the poem upon which rests the literary reputation of the younger Manrique . In the language of his histo- rian , “ Don Jorge Manrique , in an elegant Ode , full of poetic beauties , rich embellishments of genius ...
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Common terms and phrases
angel arms BARTOLOMÉ beautiful birds blessed breast breath bright child CHISPA clouds comes Count CRUZADO dance dark dead Death deep DON CARLOS dost dreams earth Enter eyes face fair faith fall father fear feel fields flowers FRANCISCO gave gentle Gipsy girl give gold golden grave green hand hast hear heard heart heaven holy hopes hour HYPOLITO land LARA leaves light lips live look maiden morning never night o'er once PADRE CURA pass play poor Pray prayer PRECIOSA rest ring rise river round SCENE shadow shalt silent silver sing sits sleep soft song soul sound speak spirit stand star stood strong sweet Take tears tell thee thine things thou art thought trees VICTORIAN village voice wait wall wave wild wind woods youth
Popular passages
Page 5 - 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 9 - 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," The Reaper said, and smiled; "Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where He was once a child.
Page 186 - And ever the fitful gusts between A sound came from the land ; It was the sound of the trampling surf On the rocks and the hard sea-sand. The breakers were right beneath her bows, She drifted a dreary wreck, And a whooping billow swept the crew Like icicles from her deck.
Page 15 - WHEN the hours of Day are numbered, And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight ; Ere the evening lamps are lighted, And, like phantoms grim and tall, Shadows from the fitful firelight Dance upon the parlor wall ; Then the forms of the departed Enter at the open door ; The beloved, the true-hearted, Come to visit me once more ; He, the young and strong, who cherished Noble longings for the strife, By the roadside fell and perished, Weary with the march...
Page 265 - MAIDEN ! with the meek, brown eyes, In whose orbs a shadow lies Like the dusk in evening skies ! Thou whose locks outshine the sun, Golden tresses, wreathed in one, As the braided streamlets run ! Standing, with reluctant feet, Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood fleet...
Page 277 - BESIDE the ungathered rice he lay, His sickle in his hand; His breast was bare, his matted hair Was buried in the sand. Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep, He saw his Native Land.
Page 178 - Then launched they to the blast, Bent like a reed each mast, Yet we were gaining fast, When the wind failed us ; And with a sudden flaw Came round the gusty Skaw, So that our foe we saw Laugh as he hailed us. " And as to catch the gale Round veered the flapping sail, Death ! was the helmsman's hail, Death without quarter...
Page 12 - Within my breast there is no light, But the cold light of stars ; 1 give the first watch of the night To the red planet Mars. The star of the unconquered will, He rises in my breast, Serene, and resolute, and still, And calm, and self-possessed.
Page 171 - 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 ix - PLEASANT it was, when woods were green, And winds were soft and low, To lie amid some sylvan scene, Where, the long drooping boughs between, Shadows dark and sunlight sheen Alternate come and go ; Or where the denser grove receives No sunlight from above, But the dark foliage interweaves In one unbroken roof of leaves, Underneath whose sloping eaves The shadows hardly move.