The Poetical Works of Henry W. LongfellowWard, Lock, 1886 - 698 pages |
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Page 49
... deep - voiced neighbouring ocean Speaks , and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest . This is the forest primeval ; but where are the hearts that beneath it Leaped like the roe , when he hears in the woodland the voice ...
... deep - voiced neighbouring ocean Speaks , and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest . This is the forest primeval ; but where are the hearts that beneath it Leaped like the roe , when he hears in the woodland the voice ...
Page 60
... Deep were his tones and solemn ; in accents measured and mournful Spake he , as , after the tocsin's alarum , distinctly the clock strikes . " What is this that ye do , my children ? what madness has seized you ? Forty years of my life ...
... Deep were his tones and solemn ; in accents measured and mournful Spake he , as , after the tocsin's alarum , distinctly the clock strikes . " What is this that ye do , my children ? what madness has seized you ? Forty years of my life ...
Page 64
... deep , oblivious slumber ; And when she woke from the trance , she beheld a multitude near her . Faces of friends she beheld , that were mournfully gazing upon her ; Pallid , with tearful eyes , and looks of saddest compassion . Still ...
... deep , oblivious slumber ; And when she woke from the trance , she beheld a multitude near her . Faces of friends she beheld , that were mournfully gazing upon her ; Pallid , with tearful eyes , and looks of saddest compassion . Still ...
Page 65
... Deep in their sands to bury the scattered bones of the mammoth . Friends they sought and homes ; and many , despairing , heart - broken , Asked of the earth but a grave , and no longer a friend nor a fireside . Written their history ...
... Deep in their sands to bury the scattered bones of the mammoth . Friends they sought and homes ; and many , despairing , heart - broken , Asked of the earth but a grave , and no longer a friend nor a fireside . Written their history ...
Page 68
... deep and still ; and the word that floats on the surface Is as the tossing buoy , that betrays where the anchor is hidden . Therefore trust to thy heart , and to what the world calls illusions . Gabriel truly is near thee ; for not far ...
... deep and still ; and the word that floats on the surface Is as the tossing buoy , that betrays where the anchor is hidden . Therefore trust to thy heart , and to what the world calls illusions . Gabriel truly is near thee ; for not far ...
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Common terms and phrases
Angel answered arms arrows beautiful beneath birds breath bright close comes cried dark dead death deep door dream earth ended eyes face fair fall father fear feet fell fire flowers follow forest give gleam golden grave guests hand head hear heard heart heaven Hiawatha Italy King King Olaf land Laughing leaves light listen living look Lord loud maiden morning never night o'er once passed Pau-Puk-Keewis prayer Prince Henry rest ring rise river rose round rushing sails sang seemed shadows shining ships silent singing sleep smile song soul sound spake speak spirit stand stars stood strong sweet sword Take thee things thou thought Till turned Vict village voice wait wall waves wigwam wild wind wonder woods young youth
Popular passages
Page 482 - BETWEEN the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day's occupations, That is known as the Children's Hour. I hear in the chamber above me The patter of little feet, The sound of a door that is opened, And voices soft and sweet. From my study I see in the lamplight, Descending the broad hall stair, Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra, And Edith with golden hair.
Page 425 - 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. Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught ! Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought ; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought!
Page 369 - And with them the Being Beauteous, Who unto my youth was given, More than all things else to love me, And is now a saint in heaven. With a slow and noiseless footstep Comes that messenger divine, Takes the vacant chair beside me, Lays her gentle hand in mine. And she sits and gazes at me With those deep and tender eyes, Like the stars, so still and saint-like, Looking downward from the skies.
Page 414 - We will be patient, and assuage the feeling We may not wholly stay ; By silence sanctifying, not concealing, The grief that must have way.
Page 425 - His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
Page 370 - SPAKE full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, "When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine. Stars they are, wherein we read our history, As astrologers and seers of eld ; Yet not wrapped about with awful mystery, Like the burning stars, which they beheld.
Page 398 - All are scattered, now, and fled, — Some are married, some are dead; And when I ask, with throbs of pain, "Ah! when shall they all meet again?
Page 396 - I SHOT an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where ; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It 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.
Page 432 - This was the peasant's last Good-night, A voice replied, far up the height, Excelsior ! At break of day, as heavenward The pious monks of Saint Bernard Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, A voice cried through the startled air Excelsior ! A traveller, by the faithful hound, Half-buried in the snow was found, Still grasping in his hand of ice That banner with the strange device Excelsior ! There in the twilight cold and gray, Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay, And from the sky, serene and far, A voice...
Page 432 - MAIDEN ! with the meek, brown eyes, In whose orbs a shadow lies Like the dusk in evening skies ! Thou whose locks outshine the sun, Golden tresses, wreathed in one, As the braided streamlets run ! Standing, with reluctant feet, Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood fleet ! Gazing, with a timid glance, On the brooklet's swift advance, On the river's broad expanse ! Deep and still, that gliding stream Beautiful to thee must seem, As the river of a dream.