Authors' Birthdays: Containing Exercises for the Celebration of the Birthdays of Poe, Longfellow, T.B. Read, Irving .... First seriesC.W. Bardeen, 1898 - 359 pages |
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Page 152
... turning to thee , O vast and well - veil'd death , And the body gratefully nestling close to thee . Over the tree - tops I float thee a song , Over the rising and sinking waves , over the myriad fields and the prairies , wide , Over the ...
... turning to thee , O vast and well - veil'd death , And the body gratefully nestling close to thee . Over the tree - tops I float thee a song , Over the rising and sinking waves , over the myriad fields and the prairies , wide , Over the ...
Page 154
... turned four - fold . Evidently very intelligent and well - bred - very affectionate - held on to my hand and put it by his face , not willing to let me leave . I was in the habit of going in afternoons and sit- ting by him and soothing ...
... turned four - fold . Evidently very intelligent and well - bred - very affectionate - held on to my hand and put it by his face , not willing to let me leave . I was in the habit of going in afternoons and sit- ting by him and soothing ...
Page 165
... turned it ; and third , that he never had the old kettle anyhow . XXIII Certainly at first sight the verse is rugged . and crude . There are sentences pages long , with dashes and parentheses , and catalogues as statistical as Homer's ...
... turned it ; and third , that he never had the old kettle anyhow . XXIII Certainly at first sight the verse is rugged . and crude . There are sentences pages long , with dashes and parentheses , and catalogues as statistical as Homer's ...
Page 178
... bouquets and ribboned wreaths , for you the shores a - crowding : For you they call , the swaying mass , their eager faces turning . O Captain dear father ! O Captain ! My Captain ! 179 This arm I 178 Walt Whitman O Captain! my Captain!
... bouquets and ribboned wreaths , for you the shores a - crowding : For you they call , the swaying mass , their eager faces turning . O Captain dear father ! O Captain ! My Captain ! 179 This arm I 178 Walt Whitman O Captain! my Captain!
Page 243
... turning , as Lowell said , The phrase that stuck but never stung . REFERENCES 1 Life and Letters of Oliver Wendell Holmes . Edited by J. T. Morse , jr . 2 vols . , Boston . The Autocrat at the Breakfast Table . By Oliver Wen- dell Homes ...
... turning , as Lowell said , The phrase that stuck but never stung . REFERENCES 1 Life and Letters of Oliver Wendell Holmes . Edited by J. T. Morse , jr . 2 vols . , Boston . The Autocrat at the Breakfast Table . By Oliver Wen- dell Homes ...
Other editions - View all
Authors' Birthdays: Containing Exercises for the Celebration of the ... Charles William Bardeen No preview available - 2018 |
Authors' Birthdays: Containing Exercises for the Celebration of the ... Charles William Bardeen No preview available - 2018 |
Authors' Birthdays: First Series; Containing Exercises for the Celebration ... Charles William Bardeen No preview available - 2017 |
Common terms and phrases
anti-slavery appeared Bancroft beauty Beecher bells Bob-o'-link Boston brown called Captain cards character chee Cooper Cooperstown critic Dame Van Winkle death Deerslayer edition Edmund Clarence Stedman Education Emerson England English eyes father feel flowers Geography George Bancroft give hand heard heart HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Holmes human Irving James John Greenleaf Whittier language Leaves of Grass light literary lived Longfellow looked Lowell Manual Marble Faun Method of Learning moral mountain Nathaniel Hawthorne nature never night novels poems poet poetry portrait published Question Book R. H. Quick Rip Van Winkle Rip's Robert of Lincoln romance School silent Sketch song soul Spink Stedman says story Stowe Teaching thee thing thought tion U. S. History verse Verse Poetry village voice volume Walt Whitman wife William Cullen Bryant woman words Wordsworth write written wrote York young ΧΙ
Popular passages
Page 293 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Page 169 - My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still; My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will; The ship is...
Page 17 - Hear the loud alarum bells— Brazen bells! What a tale of terror, now their turbulency tells! In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright! Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire...
Page 31 - There is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there ! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair ! The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted!
Page 300 - Soon as the little ones chip the shell, Six wide mouths are open for food; Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well, Gathering seeds for the hungry brood. Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; This new life is likely to be Hard for a gay young fellow like me. Chee, chee, chee.
Page 16 - Hear the sledges with the bells, Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells.' How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars, that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
Page 90 - Every change of season, every change of weather, indeed every hour of the day, produces some change in the magical hues and shapes of these mountains ; and they are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as perfect barometers. When the weather is fair and settled, they are clothed in blue and purple, and print their bold outlines on the clear evening sky ; but sometimes, when the rest of the landscape is cloudless, they will gather a hood of gray vapors about their summits, which, in the last...
Page 295 - THE melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead ; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread ; The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay, And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.
Page 117 - Rip Van Winkle" exclaimed two or three. "Oh, to be sure! That's Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning against the tree." Rip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart of himself as he went up the mountain; apparently as lazy, and certainly as ragged. The poor fellow was now completely confounded. He doubted his own identity, and whether he was himself or another man. In the midst of his bewilderment, the man in the cocked hat demanded who he was, and what was his name? "God knows!
Page 32 - In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, By guardian angels led, Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, She lives, whom we call dead. Day after day we think what she is doing In those bright realms of air ; Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, Behold her grown more fair. Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken The bond which nature gives, Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken, May reach her where she lives.