The Belfry of Bruges and Other PoemsH.G. Clarke, 1848 - 159 pages |
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Page 12
... song , Thoughts that he has cherished long ; Hears amid the chime and singing The bells of his own village ringing , And wakes , and finds his slumberous eyes Wet with most delicious tears . Thus dreamed I , 121 POEMS .
... song , Thoughts that he has cherished long ; Hears amid the chime and singing The bells of his own village ringing , And wakes , and finds his slumberous eyes Wet with most delicious tears . Thus dreamed I , 121 POEMS .
Page 27
... village choir On that sweet Sabbath morn . Through the closed blinds the golden sun Poured in a dusty beam , Like the celestial ladder seen By Jacob in his dream . And ever and anon the wind , Sweet - scented with the hay , Turned o'er ...
... village choir On that sweet Sabbath morn . Through the closed blinds the golden sun Poured in a dusty beam , Like the celestial ladder seen By Jacob in his dream . And ever and anon the wind , Sweet - scented with the hay , Turned o'er ...
Page 29
... village with strange alarms . Ah ! what a sound will rise , how wild and dreary When the death - angel touches those swift keys ! What loud lament and dismal Miserere Will mingle with their awful symphonies ! I hear even now the ...
... village with strange alarms . Ah ! what a sound will rise , how wild and dreary When the death - angel touches those swift keys ! What loud lament and dismal Miserere Will mingle with their awful symphonies ! I hear even now the ...
Page 30
... of each sacked and burning village , The shout that every prayer for mercy drowns ; The soldiers ' revels in the midst of pillage ; The wail of famine in beleaguered towns ; The bursting shell , the gateway wrenched asunder , The 30 POEMS .
... of each sacked and burning village , The shout that every prayer for mercy drowns ; The soldiers ' revels in the midst of pillage ; The wail of famine in beleaguered towns ; The bursting shell , the gateway wrenched asunder , The 30 POEMS .
Page 56
... villages of sand - roofed tents , That rise like golden domes Above the cavernous and secret homes Of wandering and nomadic tribes of ants . Ah , cruel little Tamerlane , Who , with thy dreadful reign , Dost persecute and overwhelm ...
... villages of sand - roofed tents , That rise like golden domes Above the cavernous and secret homes Of wandering and nomadic tribes of ants . Ah , cruel little Tamerlane , Who , with thy dreadful reign , Dost persecute and overwhelm ...
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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.