Selections from American Poetry: With Special Reference to Poe, Longfellow, Lowell and WhittierMargaret Sprague Carhart Macmillan, 1917 - 373 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 39
Page vii
... Bells Eldorado HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW : PAGE 75 79 123 80 81 82 84 85 87 88 89 90 96 99 100 104 Hymn to the Night 106 • A Psalm of Life 107 The Skeleton in Armor 108 The Wreck of the Hesperus 114 The Village Blacksmith . 118 It is ...
... Bells Eldorado HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW : PAGE 75 79 123 80 81 82 84 85 87 88 89 90 96 99 100 104 Hymn to the Night 106 • A Psalm of Life 107 The Skeleton in Armor 108 The Wreck of the Hesperus 114 The Village Blacksmith . 118 It is ...
Page xiii
... Bells . " One who understands no English can grasp the meaning of the different sections from the mere sound , so clearly distinguishable are the clashing of the brass and the tolling of the iron bells . If we return to our definition ...
... Bells . " One who understands no English can grasp the meaning of the different sections from the mere sound , so clearly distinguishable are the clashing of the brass and the tolling of the iron bells . If we return to our definition ...
Page 33
... bell Peeps from the last year's leaves below . Ere russet fields their green resume , Sweet flower , I love , in forest bare , To meet thee , when thy faint perfume Alone is in the virgin air . Of all her train , the hands of Spring ...
... bell Peeps from the last year's leaves below . Ere russet fields their green resume , Sweet flower , I love , in forest bare , To meet thee , when thy faint perfume Alone is in the virgin air . Of all her train , the hands of Spring ...
Page 63
... bell— ( ' Twas made of the white snail's pearly shell ) " Midnight comes , and all is well ! 10 Hither , hither , wing your way ! " Tis the dawn of the fairy - day . " They come from beds of lichen green , They creep from the mullen's ...
... bell— ( ' Twas made of the white snail's pearly shell ) " Midnight comes , and all is well ! 10 Hither , hither , wing your way ! " Tis the dawn of the fairy - day . " They come from beds of lichen green , They creep from the mullen's ...
Page 66
... spake not , but he bowed him low ; Then plucked a crimson colen - bell , ° And turned him round in act to go . The way is long , he cannot fly , 100 105 His soiled wing has lost its power ; And he 66 SELECTIONS FROM AMERICAN POETRY.
... spake not , but he bowed him low ; Then plucked a crimson colen - bell , ° And turned him round in act to go . The way is long , he cannot fly , 100 105 His soiled wing has lost its power ; And he 66 SELECTIONS FROM AMERICAN POETRY.
Other editions - View all
Selections from American poetry, with special reference to Poe, Longfellow ... Various Limited preview - 2022 |
Common terms and phrases
Angel ANNABEL LEE arms band of brothers beauty bells beneath bird blue Bob-o'-link bobolink brave breast breath bright chamber door cloud Concord Hymn dark dead dear deep dream earth eyes fair Fairy feel feet flowers forest Frost Spirit comes gleams golden gray green hand hath hear heard heart heaven hills holy JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER King land laugh leaves Lenore light live look loud MAUD MULLER mighty Minnesinger never Nevermore Newbury town night o'er Persian weaves Pioneers poems poet poetry prayer purple Quoth the Raven RALPH WALDO EMERSON rhyme ring river rock round sail Sandalphon shade shadow shine shore silence sing smile snow song sorrow soul sound spring star-spangled banner stars stone sweet tears thee thet thine things thou art thought Titmouse toil trees voice water-sprites wave wild wind wings woods word youth
Popular passages
Page 68 - Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute...
Page 70 - Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee: For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee...
Page 85 - 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 19 - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast — The desert and illimitable air — Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Page 223 - For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths — for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain ! dear father ! This arm beneath your head ! It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead.
Page 67 - Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak 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 69 - And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor: And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted — nevermore...
Page 69 - 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...
Page 69 - 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 84 - 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.