American PoetryPercy Holmes Boynton, Howard Mumford Jones, George Sherburn, Frank Martindale Webster C. Scribner's sons, 1918 - 721 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 100
Page vii
... verse of the eighteenth , and the lyrics of the Revolu- tionary and Civil Wars not included in the works of the more important poets . In- surmountable copyright restrictions will account for the lack of a few late products by four of ...
... verse of the eighteenth , and the lyrics of the Revolu- tionary and Civil Wars not included in the works of the more important poets . In- surmountable copyright restrictions will account for the lack of a few late products by four of ...
Page 2
... verse , Mine bleating stands before thy royal Herse . Thou never didst nor canst thou now dis- dain T ' accept the tribute of a loyal brain . Thy clemency did yerst esteem as much The acclamations of the poor as rich , Which makes me ...
... verse , Mine bleating stands before thy royal Herse . Thou never didst nor canst thou now dis- dain T ' accept the tribute of a loyal brain . Thy clemency did yerst esteem as much The acclamations of the poor as rich , Which makes me ...
Page 11
... verse asso- ciated with Puritan New England . He was twice sent back to England and after the return from Gray ... verses are scattered throughout a prose text of 89 pages . 2 Their Cause is oft the worse , that first 11.
... verse asso- ciated with Puritan New England . He was twice sent back to England and after the return from Gray ... verses are scattered throughout a prose text of 89 pages . 2 Their Cause is oft the worse , that first 11.
Page 15
... verses were not in the first edition . Their author was the son of the Rev. Nathaniel Rogers , of Ipswich . He was ... verse ? Thy will be done . Yet Lord , who dealest thus , Make this great death expedient for us . Luther pull'd down ...
... verses were not in the first edition . Their author was the son of the Rev. Nathaniel Rogers , of Ipswich . He was ... verse ? Thy will be done . Yet Lord , who dealest thus , Make this great death expedient for us . Luther pull'd down ...
Page 24
... Verse ill - suits the noble Theme . 40 Here various Flourets grace the teem- ing Plains , Adorn'd by Nature's Hand with beauteous Stains . First born of Spring , here the Pacone ap- pears , Whose golden Root a silver Blossom rears . In ...
... Verse ill - suits the noble Theme . 40 Here various Flourets grace the teem- ing Plains , Adorn'd by Nature's Hand with beauteous Stains . First born of Spring , here the Pacone ap- pears , Whose golden Root a silver Blossom rears . In ...
Other editions - View all
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.