The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: (comprising His Poems from 1839-1847).F.M. Lupton Publishing Company, 1800 - 363 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 81
Page 8
... soul of youth engage Ere Fancy has been quelled ; Old legends of the monkish page , Tradition of the saint and sage , Tales that have the rime of age , And chronicles of eld . And , loving still these quaint old themes , Even in the ...
... soul of youth engage Ere Fancy has been quelled ; Old legends of the monkish page , Tradition of the saint and sage , Tales that have the rime of age , And chronicles of eld . And , loving still these quaint old themes , Even in the ...
Page 12
... 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 . Not enjoyment , and not sorrow , Is our ...
... 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 . Not enjoyment , and not sorrow , Is our ...
Page 15
... soul , that slumbered , To a holy , calm delight ; Ere the evening lamps are lighted , And , like phantoms grim and tall , Shadows from the fitful fire - light Dance upon the parlor wall . 1 Then the forms of the departed Enter at the ...
... soul , that slumbered , To a holy , calm delight ; Ere the evening lamps are lighted , And , like phantoms grim and tall , Shadows from the fitful fire - light Dance upon the parlor wall . 1 Then the forms of the departed Enter at the ...
Page 18
... soul - like wings , Teaching us , by most persuasive reasons , How akin they are to human things . And with childlike , credulous affection We behold their tender buds expand ; Emblems of our own great resurrection , Emblems of the ...
... soul - like wings , Teaching us , by most persuasive reasons , How akin they are to human things . And with childlike , credulous affection We behold their tender buds expand ; Emblems of our own great resurrection , Emblems of the ...
Page 19
... 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 , Encamped beside Life's rushing stream , In Fancy's misty light THE BELEAGUERED CITY .
... 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 , Encamped beside Life's rushing stream , In Fancy's misty light THE BELEAGUERED CITY .
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
Acadian Albrecht Dürer angel art thou Bart beautiful behold belfry BELFRY OF BRUGES bell beneath Beware birds bosom breath bride bright brooklet cachucha child Chispa clouds Count of Lara Cruz Cruzado dance dark dead Death Don Carlos Don Dinero Dost thou doth dream earth Evangeline eyes fair father fear flowers forest Geronimo Gil gleam gold golden Grand-Pré Gypsy hand hear heard heart heaven holy Hypolito land light lips look loud Luck of Edenhall maiden merry midnight moon morning night o'er Padre passed Pray prayer Prec Preciosa restless heart ring rise river sail Saint sang SCENE shadows silent singing sleep slumbered soft song sorrow soul sound spake stands stars stood sweet Tharaw thee thine thou art thou hast thought Timoneda unto Vict Victorian village voice walls wandered wave weary wild wind window words youth
Popular passages
Page 110 - Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low. And children coming home from school Look in at the open door; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
Page 84 - Come hither! come hither! my little daughter, And do not tremble so; For I can weather the roughest gale, That ever wind did blow.
Page 111 - It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes. Toiling, rejoicing, -sorrowing, Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose.
Page 86 - At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, A fisherman stood aghast To see the form of a maiden fair, Lashed close to a drifting mast. The salt sea was frozen on her breast, The salt tears in her eyes; And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, On the billows fall and rise. Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, In the midnight and the snow! Christ save us all from a death like this, On the reef of Norman's Woe!
Page 337 - She is not dead, the child of our affection, But gone unto that school Where she no longer needs our poor protection, And Christ himself doth rule. In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, By guardian angels led, Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, She lives, whom we call dead.
Page 250 - I breathed a song into the air, I i. fell to earth, I knew not where ; For who has sight so keen and strong. That it can follow the flight of song • Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke ; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend, SONNETS.
Page 240 - Read from some humbler poet, Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the eyelids start; Who, through long days of labor And nights devoid of ease, Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies. Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer.
Page 122 - EXCELSIOR. THE shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice A banner with the strange device. Excelsior! His brow was sad ; his eye beneath Flashed like a falchion from its sheath. And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, Excelsior!
Page 263 - Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen summers. Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn by the wayside, Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the brown shade of her tresses I Sweet was her breath as the breath of kine that feed in the meadows.
Page 216 - Were half the power that fills the world with terror, Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals or forts...