American PoetryPercy Holmes Boynton, Howard Mumford Jones, George Sherburn, Frank Martindale Webster C. Scribner's sons, 1918 - 721 pages |
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Page 19
... fire , for who may it abide ? No hiding place can from his Face sinners at all conceal , 100 Whose flaming Eye hid things doth ' spy and darkest things reveal . The Judge draws nigh , exalted high , upon a lofty Throne , Amidst the ...
... fire , for who may it abide ? No hiding place can from his Face sinners at all conceal , 100 Whose flaming Eye hid things doth ' spy and darkest things reveal . The Judge draws nigh , exalted high , upon a lofty Throne , Amidst the ...
Page 20
... Fire and Brimstone flameth : Suffer the smart , which your desert as it's due wages claimeth . Oh piercing words more sharp swords ! what , to depart from thee , Whose face before for evermore the best of Pleasures be ! What ? to depart ...
... Fire and Brimstone flameth : Suffer the smart , which your desert as it's due wages claimeth . Oh piercing words more sharp swords ! what , to depart from thee , Whose face before for evermore the best of Pleasures be ! What ? to depart ...
Page 21
... fire , That they shall not consume a jot , nor by it's force expire . THE SAINTS ASCEND TO HEAVEN The Saints behold with courage bold , and thankful wonderment , To see all those that were their foes thus sent to punishment : Then do ...
... fire , That they shall not consume a jot , nor by it's force expire . THE SAINTS ASCEND TO HEAVEN The Saints behold with courage bold , and thankful wonderment , To see all those that were their foes thus sent to punishment : Then do ...
Page 23
... Fire on the Bench , and Stubble at the Bar . O sinners ruminate these thoughts agen You have been Beasts enough , at last be Men Christ yet entreats , but if you will not turn Where grace will not convert , there fire will burn . 1673 ...
... Fire on the Bench , and Stubble at the Bar . O sinners ruminate these thoughts agen You have been Beasts enough , at last be Men Christ yet entreats , but if you will not turn Where grace will not convert , there fire will burn . 1673 ...
Page 28
... Fire ; Thrown from the heav'nly Space he seeks the Earth , From whence he first deriv'd his humble Birth . The Mind advis'd by this instructive Sight , Descending sudden from th ' aerial Height , Obliges me to view a different Scene ...
... Fire ; Thrown from the heav'nly Space he seeks the Earth , From whence he first deriv'd his humble Birth . The Mind advis'd by this instructive Sight , Descending sudden from th ' aerial Height , Obliges me to view a different Scene ...
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Common terms and phrases
ANNABEL LEE Anne Bradstreet arms Atlantic Monthly beauty bells beneath bird brave breast breath bright clouds dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth eyes face fair fame fate fear fight fire Fitz-Greene Halleck flame flowers forest freedom Freeman's Journal friends glory grace Graham's Magazine grave green hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven Hiawatha hills JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE King land laugh leaves light live look Lord maize mighty Mondamin moon morning mountain Muse never night Nokomis o'er Osawatomie peace Philip Freneau poem poet proud rise round sail shade shadow shine shore silent sing skies sleep smile song soul sound spirit stars stream strong sweet thee thet thine things thou thought throne toil trees verse voice W. D. Howells wave wild wind wings wonder woods words York Evening Post
Popular passages
Page 234 - This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch...
Page 234 - Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door — Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore — Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!
Page 236 - Hear the sledges with the bells, Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells.' How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars, that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells — From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
Page 233 - December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow ; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow— sorrow for the lost Lenore — For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore — Nameless here for evermore.
Page 235 - Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore !" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil! Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted — On this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore : Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me — tell me, I implore!
Page 269 - ANNOUNCED by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, And veils the farm-house 'at the garden's end. The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
Page 178 - And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home ; When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill, The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore, And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
Page 238 - I was a child and she was a child In this kingdom by the sea. But we loved with a love that was more than love I and my Annabel Lee With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago. In this kingdom by the sea.
Page 169 - Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there: And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep — the dead reign there alone.
Page 256 - BLESSINGS on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan ! With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes ; With thy red lip, redder still Kissed by strawberries on the hill ; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace ; From my heart I give thee joy, — I was once a barefoot boy ! Prince thou art, — the grown-up man Only is republican.