The Belfry of Bruges and Other PoemsH.G. Clarke, 1848 - 159 pages |
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Page 12
... toil and strife , May listen with a calm delight To the poet's melodies , Till he hears , or dreams he hears , Intermingled with the song , Thoughts that he has cherished long ; Hears amid the chime and singing The bells of his own ...
... toil and strife , May listen with a calm delight To the poet's melodies , Till he hears , or dreams he hears , Intermingled with the song , Thoughts that he has cherished long ; Hears amid the chime and singing The bells of his own ...
Page 31
... mountains , Nurem- berg , the ancient , stands . t old town of toil and traffic , quaint old town of art and song , ries haunt thy pointed gables , like the rooks that round them throng : Down the dark future , through long genera- tions ,
... mountains , Nurem- berg , the ancient , stands . t old town of toil and traffic , quaint old town of art and song , ries haunt thy pointed gables , like the rooks that round them throng : Down the dark future , through long genera- tions ,
Page 33
... , the ancient , stands . Quaint old town of toil and traffic , quaint old town of art and song , Memories haunt thy pointed gables , like the rooks that round them throng : Memories of the Middle Ages , when the Em- perors Nuremberg.
... , the ancient , stands . Quaint old town of toil and traffic , quaint old town of art and song , Memories haunt thy pointed gables , like the rooks that round them throng : Memories of the Middle Ages , when the Em- perors Nuremberg.
Page 36
... toiling still with busy hand , Like an emigrant he wandered , seeking for the Better Land . Emigravit is the inscription on the tomb - stone where he lies ; Dead he is not - never dies . but departed for the artist -- Fairer seems the ...
... toiling still with busy hand , Like an emigrant he wandered , seeking for the Better Land . Emigravit is the inscription on the tomb - stone where he lies ; Dead he is not - never dies . but departed for the artist -- Fairer seems the ...
Page 39
... sang in thought his careless lay : Gathering from the pavement's crevice , as a floweret of the soil , The nobility of labour , -the long pedegree of toil . THE NORMAN BARON . Dans les moments de la vie NUREMBERG . 39.
... sang in thought his careless lay : Gathering from the pavement's crevice , as a floweret of the soil , The nobility of labour , -the long pedegree of toil . THE NORMAN BARON . Dans les moments de la vie NUREMBERG . 39.
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Common terms and phrases
Albrecht Dürer ancient timepiece Annie of Tharaw AUTHOR OF HYPERION beautiful beheld BELFRY OF BRUGES bells Beneath birds breathed burgomaster CARILLON CATHEDRAL DOOR chamber Charlemagne chimes choir church of sainted cloud dark death dost dream drifting earth Flanders Fleece of Gold Forever never Forevermore Ghent Gleam golden hand Hans Sachs hear heart heaven hemlock tree HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW holy JULIUS MOSEN land light loud maiden fair Maximilian meadow brook mighty Minnesingers Minnewater Namur nest Never forever night numbers Nuremberg o'er old Flemish city old Silenus once Pegnitz poem poet poet's quaint old Flemish quaint old town rain restless RESTLESS HEART rhymes rise river roar round sainted Sebald sang sculpture shadows silent Sleep slumbered song sorrow sound stands stars Super-Royal 32mo sweet thee Thou art thought toil tower town of Bruges Twelve Apostles Twelve Wise Masters village VOGELWEIDE voice wandering Wartburg wild window youth
Popular passages
Page 82 - Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer. Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice. And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares that infest the day Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.
Page 80 - The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, ' As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, That my soul cannot resist...
Page 102 - 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 82 - 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 42 - How beautiful is the rain! After the dust and heat, In the broad and fiery street, In the narrow lane, How beautiful is the rain! How it clatters along the roofs, Like the tramp of hoofs! How it gushes and struggles out From the throat of the overflowing spout!
Page 133 - THOUGH the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small ; Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he alL TRUTH.
Page 99 - Halfway up the stairs it stands, And points and beckons with its hands From its case of massive oak, Like a monk, who, under his cloak, Crosses himself, and sighs, alas ' With sorrowful voice to all who pass, — " Forever — never ! Never — forever...
Page 31 - 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: The warrior's name would be a name abhorred!
Page 101 - Through days of sorrow and of mirth, Through days of death and days of birth, Through every swift vicissitude Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood, And as if, like God, it all things saw, It calmly repeats those words of awe, — " Forever — never! Never — forever...
Page 78 - Silver-flashing Surges of San Salvador; From the tumbling surf, that buries The Orkneyan skerries, Answering the hoarse Hebrides; And from wrecks of ships, and drifting Spars, uplifting On the desolate, rainy seas; — Ever drifting, drifting, drifting On the shifting Currents of the restless main; Till in sheltered coves, and reaches Of sandy beaches, All have found repose again.