The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: (comprising His Poems from 1839-1847).F.M. Lupton Publishing Company, 1800 - 363 pages |
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Page 14
... tears and pain , The flowers she most did love , She knew she should find them all again In the fields of light above . O , not in cruelty , not in wrath , The Reaper came that day ; " T was an angel visited the green earth , And took ...
... tears and pain , The flowers she most did love , She knew she should find them all again In the fields of light above . O , not in cruelty , not in wrath , The Reaper came that day ; " T was an angel visited the green earth , And took ...
Page 18
... tears o'erflowing , Stand like Ruth amid the golden corn ; Not alone in Spring's armorial bearing , And in Summer's green - emblazoned field But in arms of brave old Autumn's wearing , In the centre of his brazen shield ; Not alone in ...
... tears o'erflowing , Stand like Ruth amid the golden corn ; Not alone in Spring's armorial bearing , And in Summer's green - emblazoned field But in arms of brave old Autumn's wearing , In the centre of his brazen shield ; Not alone in ...
Page 20
... Tears afar The spectral camp is fled : Faith shineth as a morning star , Our ghastly fears are dead . MIDNIGHT MASS FOR THE DYING YEAR . YES , the Year is growing old , And his eye is pale and bleared ! Death , with frosty hand and cold ...
... Tears afar The spectral camp is fled : Faith shineth as a morning star , Our ghastly fears are dead . MIDNIGHT MASS FOR THE DYING YEAR . YES , the Year is growing old , And his eye is pale and bleared ! Death , with frosty hand and cold ...
Page 27
... 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 drums should beat To the tread of ...
... 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 drums should beat To the tread of ...
Page 29
... tears Dim the sweet look that Nature wears . THE SPIRIT OF POETRY . THERE is a quiet spirit in these woods , That dwells where'er the gentle south - wind blows ; Where , underneath the white - thorn , in the glade , The wild - flowers ...
... tears Dim the sweet look that Nature wears . THE SPIRIT OF POETRY . THERE is a quiet spirit in these woods , That dwells where'er the gentle south - wind blows ; Where , underneath the white - thorn , in the glade , The wild - flowers ...
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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...