The Bowdoin PoetsJ. Griffin, 1840 - 188 pages |
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Page 4
... thou art here , sweet Boy , among The crowds that come this world to throng ! The loveliest dream of waking life ! Hope of the bosom's secret strife ! Emblem of all the heart can love ! Vision of all that's bright above ! Pledge ...
... thou art here , sweet Boy , among The crowds that come this world to throng ! The loveliest dream of waking life ! Hope of the bosom's secret strife ! Emblem of all the heart can love ! Vision of all that's bright above ! Pledge ...
Page 5
... thou shalt weep , Such is thy destiny and doom , O'er this long past and long to come ; Earth's mockery , guilt , and nameless wo ; The pangs which thou can'st only know ; All crowded in a little span , The being of the creature Man ...
... thou shalt weep , Such is thy destiny and doom , O'er this long past and long to come ; Earth's mockery , guilt , and nameless wo ; The pangs which thou can'st only know ; All crowded in a little span , The being of the creature Man ...
Page 6
... Thou reckest not sweet slumberer , there , Of this world's crimes ; of many a snare To catch the soul ; of pleasures wild , Friends false - foes dark - and hearts beguiled ; Of Passion's ministers who sway With iron sceptre , all who ...
... Thou reckest not sweet slumberer , there , Of this world's crimes ; of many a snare To catch the soul ; of pleasures wild , Friends false - foes dark - and hearts beguiled ; Of Passion's ministers who sway With iron sceptre , all who ...
Page 7
... thou shalt weep As he has wept who eyes thy sleep , But weeps no more - his heart is cold , Warped , sickened , seared , with woes untold . And be it so ! the clouds which roll Dark , heavy o'er my troubled soul , Bring with them ...
... thou shalt weep As he has wept who eyes thy sleep , But weeps no more - his heart is cold , Warped , sickened , seared , with woes untold . And be it so ! the clouds which roll Dark , heavy o'er my troubled soul , Bring with them ...
Page 21
... thou art pained with the World's noisy stir Or crazed with its mad tumults , and weighed down With any of the ills of human life ; If thou art sick and weak , or mournest at the loss Of brethren gone to that far - distant land To which ...
... thou art pained with the World's noisy stir Or crazed with its mad tumults , and weighed down With any of the ills of human life ; If thou art sick and weak , or mournest at the loss Of brethren gone to that far - distant land To which ...
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Common terms and phrases
amid answering tone Autumn beam beauty beneath bliss bloom bosom Bowdoin BOWDOIN COLLEGE bowers breast breath bright brow BRUNSWICK calm CHARLES H cherish clouds cold COVENANTERS dark dead death deep doth dream earth fade faith flowers flowers of Eden friends gaze gentle GEORGE W glade gleam gloom glory gone grave green hath heart heaven HENRY W holy hopes hour infant joyous leaves life's light live lonely morning mother mournful MUSIC AND MEMORY NATHANIEL L ne'er neath night numbered o'er ocean old time loved passed perished prayer proud rest ROBERT WYMAN rolling round SEBA SMITH shade shadows roll shining sigh silent sleep slumbers smile soft song sorrow soul spirit stars stern storms strain stream strife sweet swell tears tempest's thee thine thought throng tread trembling Twas voice wake wave weep wild winds wing withering woods youth
Popular passages
Page 31 - White as a sea-fog, landward bound, The spectral camp was seen, And with a sorrowful, deep sound, The river flowed between. No other voice nor sound was there, No drum, nor sentry's pace ; The mist-like banners clasped the air, As clouds with clouds embrace. But, when the old cathedral bell Proclaimed the morning prayer, The white pavilions rose and fell On the alarmed air. Down the broad valley, fast and far, The troubled army fled ; Up rose the glorious morning star, The ghastly host was dead.
Page 142 - Then the forms of the departed Enter at the open door ; The beloved, the true-hearted, Come to visit me once more ; He, the young and strong, who cherished Noble longings for the strife, By the roadside fell and perished, Weary with the march of life...
Page 32 - ... 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, Gigantic shapes and shadows gleam Portentous through the night. Upon its midnight battle-ground The spectral camp is seen, And, with a sorrowful, deep sound, Flows the River of Life between. No other voice nor sound is there, In the army of the grave ; No other challenge breaks the air, But the rushing of Life's wave.
Page 143 - 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. Uttered not, yet comprehended, Is the spirit's voiceless prayer, Soft rebukes, in blessings ended, Breathing from her lips of air. O, though oft depressed and lonely, All my fears are laid aside, If I but remember...
Page 2 - Hence gifted bards Have ever loved the calm and quiet shades. For them there was an eloquent voice in all The sylvan pomp of woods, the golden sun, The flowers, the leaves, the river on its way, Blue skies, and silver clouds, and gentle winds...
Page 30 - I HAVE read, in some old marvellous tale, Some legend strange and vague, That a midnight host of spectres pale Beleaguered the walls of Prague. Beside the Moldau's rushing stream, With the wan moon overhead, TTiere stood, as in an awful dream, The army of the dead.
Page 26 - The babe was sleeping on her breast. And colder still the winds did blow, And darker hours of night came on, And deeper grew the drifting snow : Her limbs were chilled, her strength was gone. " O God ! " she cried in accents wild, " If I must perish, save my child ! " She stripped her mantle from her breast, And bared her bosom to the storm.
Page 24 - Gray watcher of the waters ! Thou art king Of the blue lake ; and all the winged kind Do fear the echo of thine angry cry. How bright thy savage eye ! Thou lookest down, And seest the shining fishes as they glide ; And poising thy gray wing, thy glossy beak Swift as an arrow strikes its roving prey.
Page 21 - WELL do I love those various harmonies That ring so gayly in spring's budding woods, And in the thickets, and green, quiet haunts, And lonely copses of the summer-time, And in red autumn's ancient solitudes.
Page 26 - She stripped her mantle from her breast, And bared her bosom to the storm, And round the child she wrapped the vest, And smiled to think her babe was warm. With one cold kiss, one tear she shed, And sunk upon a snowy bed.