Cyclopadia of American Literature, Volume 2T. E. Zell, 1881 |
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Results 1-5 of 78
Page 6
... o'er his sun - burnt brow , And many a gaping rent did show . His beard in grim luxuriance grew ; His great - toe peep'd from either shoe ; His brawny elbow shone all bare ; All matted was his carrot hair ; And in his sad face you might ...
... o'er his sun - burnt brow , And many a gaping rent did show . His beard in grim luxuriance grew ; His great - toe peep'd from either shoe ; His brawny elbow shone all bare ; All matted was his carrot hair ; And in his sad face you might ...
Page 20
... O'er the vast Atlantic wave to our shore ! For thou with magic might Canst reach to where the light Of Phoebus travels bright The world o'er ! The Genius of our clime , From his pine - embattled steep , Shall hail the guest sublime ...
... O'er the vast Atlantic wave to our shore ! For thou with magic might Canst reach to where the light Of Phoebus travels bright The world o'er ! The Genius of our clime , From his pine - embattled steep , Shall hail the guest sublime ...
Page 21
... o'er thy brain Of wandering ghosts a mournful train , That low in fitful sobs complain Of death's untimely call ... o'er the frozen pole , Hast felt beneath my stern control The desert region quake ; " Or from old Hecla's cloudy height ...
... o'er thy brain Of wandering ghosts a mournful train , That low in fitful sobs complain Of death's untimely call ... o'er the frozen pole , Hast felt beneath my stern control The desert region quake ; " Or from old Hecla's cloudy height ...
Page 29
... o'er ocean , it wandered through earth , It spoke of the time when words had birth , When the spirit of God moved over the sea , When earth was only a thing - to be . And it sighed , as it passed on that passing breeze , The voice of ...
... o'er ocean , it wandered through earth , It spoke of the time when words had birth , When the spirit of God moved over the sea , When earth was only a thing - to be . And it sighed , as it passed on that passing breeze , The voice of ...
Page 32
... o'er every vernal charm , O'er all that was bright and fair ; It tells of death , as it moans around , And the desolate hall returns the sound . And there's a voice - a small , still voice , That comes when the storm is past ; It bids ...
... o'er every vernal charm , O'er all that was bright and fair ; It tells of death , as it moans around , And the desolate hall returns the sound . And there's a voice - a small , still voice , That comes when the storm is past ; It bids ...
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American appeared beauty became born Boston Boston Athenæum breath called character Christian Church College commenced dark death divine dream duated early earth edition Edmund Andros England English entitled essays father feel flowers genius hand heart heaven honor hour human Italy journal Knickerbocker Magazine labor land lectures light literary literature living look Lord Massachusetts ment mind moral morning nation nature never night North American Review o'er octavo oration passed passion Phi Beta Kappa Philadelphia Pilgarlick poems poet poetical poetry political Pot Pie published residence Sam Patch scene sketches Slavery smile Society song soul spirit story sweet thee Theodore Sedgwick thine things thou thought tion voice volume Whig words writings wrote York York Mirror young youth
Popular passages
Page 406 - This it is and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you" — here I opened wide the door: — Darkness there and nothing more.
Page 183 - The hand that rounded Peter's dome And groined the aisles of Christian Rome Wrought in a sad sincerity; Himself from God he could not free; He builded better than he knew; The conscious stone to beauty grew.
Page 407 - Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting — "Get thee back into the tempest and the night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! — quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
Page 371 - And he shakes his feeble head. That it seems as if he said, " They are gone." The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has prest In their bloom; And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb.
Page 407 - ... thing of evil ! — prophet Fa*y 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! Quoth the raven,
Page 406 - Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as
Page 91 - He looks abroad into the varied field Of nature, and, though poor perhaps compared With those whose mansions glitter in his sight, Calls the delightful scenery all his own. His are the mountains, and the valleys his, And the resplendent rivers. His to enjoy With a propriety that none can feel, But who, with filial confidence inspired, Can lift to Heaven an unpresumptuous eye, And smiling say —
Page 406 - But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore — What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore.
Page 284 - They climb up into my turret O'er the arms and back of my chair; If I try to escape, they surround me; They seem to be everywhere.
Page 377 - This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, Sails the unshadowed main, — The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings, And coral reefs lie bare, Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.