The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth LongfellowJ. R. Osgood, 1874 - 363 pages |
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Page 8
... round the barren oak , The summer vine in beauty clung , And summer winds the stillness broke , The crystal icicle is hung . Where , from their frozen urns , mute springs Pour out the river's gradual tide , Shrilly the skater's iron ...
... round the barren oak , The summer vine in beauty clung , And summer winds the stillness broke , The crystal icicle is hung . Where , from their frozen urns , mute springs Pour out the river's gradual tide , Shrilly the skater's iron ...
Page 10
... round us , and her silver voice Is the rich music of a summer bird , Heard in the still night , with its passion- ate cadence . BURIAL OF THE MINNISINK . ON sunny slope and beechen swell , The shadowed light of evening fell ; And ...
... round us , and her silver voice Is the rich music of a summer bird , Heard in the still night , with its passion- ate cadence . BURIAL OF THE MINNISINK . ON sunny slope and beechen swell , The shadowed light of evening fell ; And ...
Page 12
... round , And they are gone ! No rest the inconstant goddess knows , But changing , and without repose , Still hurries on . Even could the hand of avarice save Its gilded baubles , till the grave Reclaimed its prey , Let none on such poor ...
... round , And they are gone ! No rest the inconstant goddess knows , But changing , and without repose , Still hurries on . Even could the hand of avarice save Its gilded baubles , till the grave Reclaimed its prey , Let none on such poor ...
Page 16
... round us yet , Bright , radiant , blest . To cheer life's flowery April , fast de- Appeared to. dures Fierce battle , and against the Moors His standard rears . " And thou , brave knight , whose hand has poured The life - blood of the ...
... round us yet , Bright , radiant , blest . To cheer life's flowery April , fast de- Appeared to. dures Fierce battle , and against the Moors His standard rears . " And thou , brave knight , whose hand has poured The life - blood of the ...
Page 17
... round pebbles count ! How , without malice murmuring , glides thy current ! O sweet simplicity of days gone by ! Thou shun'st the haunts of man , to dwell in limpid fount ! THE CELESTIAL PILOT . FROM DANTE . PURGATORIO , II . AND now ...
... round pebbles count ! How , without malice murmuring , glides thy current ! O sweet simplicity of days gone by ! Thou shun'st the haunts of man , to dwell in limpid fount ! THE CELESTIAL PILOT . FROM DANTE . PURGATORIO , II . AND now ...
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Common terms and phrases
Acadian Angel answered Antiochus arrows beautiful behold beneath birds Bons amis breath brooklet Charlemagne Chispa cloud cried dark dead death door dream earth Eginhard eyes face fair father fear feet fire forest gazed gleam gold golden guests Gypsy hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven Hiawatha holy Jews Judas Kenabeek King Olaf land Lara Laughing Water light listen look Lord loud maiden meadow Miles Standish Mondamin moon morning never night Nokomis o'er Odin Olaf's Olger Osseo passed Pau-Puk-Keewis pray prayer Prec priest river rose round sails sang shadow shining ships Sigrid the Haughty silent singing sleep smile snow song Song of Hiawatha soul sound spake stars stood sunshine sweet sword tale Tharaw thee Thorberg thou art thought unto Vict village voice wait wall wampum whispered wigwam wild wind wonder words
Popular passages
Page 36 - ... 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. Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught ! Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought ; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought.
Page 87 - 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. 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 236 - A moment only he feels the spell Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread Of the lonely belfry and the dead ; For suddenly all his thoughts are bent On a shadowy something far away, Where the river widens to meet the bay, A line of black that bends and floats On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.
Page 126 - Then the Master, With a gesture of command, Waved his hand; And at the word, Loud and sudden there was heard, All around them and below, The sound of hammers, blow on blow, Knocking away the shores and spurs. And see! she stirs! She starts,— she moves,— she seems to feel The thrill of life along her keel, And, spurning with her foot the ground, With one exulting, joyous bound, She leaps into the ocean's arms!
Page 90 - I SHOT an arrow into the air, It fell to earth I knew not where ; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where ; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song ! Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke ; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend.
Page 90 - 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 212 - We have not wings, we cannot soar ; But we have feet to scale and climb By slow degrees, by more and more, The cloudy summits of our time. The mighty pyramids of stone That wedge-like cleave the desert airs, When nearer seen, and better known, Are but gigantic flights of stairs. The distant mountains, that uprear Their solid bastions to the skies, Are crossed by pathways, that appear As we to higher levels rise.
Page 94 - THOUGH the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small ; Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all.
Page 2 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Page 3 - Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time ; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate ; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait.