American Poems, 1776-1900: With Notes and Biographies |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 37
Page 4
... waiting . future will bring forth may only be guessed at vaguely . reasonably sure , however , that the splendid material and political activity of the United States at the present day — the surge of life that every day beats around our ...
... waiting . future will bring forth may only be guessed at vaguely . reasonably sure , however , that the splendid material and political activity of the United States at the present day — the surge of life that every day beats around our ...
Page 50
... wait The funeral train at the open gate . A relic of bygone days was he , And his locks were white as the foamy sea ; And these words came from his lips so thin : " I gather them in , I gather them in . " I gather them in ! for man and ...
... wait The funeral train at the open gate . A relic of bygone days was he , And his locks were white as the foamy sea ; And these words came from his lips so thin : " I gather them in , I gather them in . " I gather them in ! for man and ...
Page 62
... Waits for the next high wave to follow him . An aged man succeeds ; his bending form Sinks slowly . Mingling with the sullen stream Gleam the white locks , and then are seen no more . Lo ! wider grows the stream- a sealike flood Saps ...
... Waits for the next high wave to follow him . An aged man succeeds ; his bending form Sinks slowly . Mingling with the sullen stream Gleam the white locks , and then are seen no more . Lo ! wider grows the stream- a sealike flood Saps ...
Page 65
... waits on growth and action shall proceed With everlasting Concord hand in hand . THE BATTLEFIELD ONCE this soft turf , this rivulet's sands , Were trampled by a hurrying crowd , And fiery hearts and armëd hands Encountered in the battle ...
... waits on growth and action shall proceed With everlasting Concord hand in hand . THE BATTLEFIELD ONCE this soft turf , this rivulet's sands , Were trampled by a hurrying crowd , And fiery hearts and armëd hands Encountered in the battle ...
Page 80
... Wait , I prithee , till I come Within earshot of thy hum , - All without is martyrdom . When the south wind , in May days , With a net of shining haze 5 ΙΟ 15 20 25 Silvers the horizon wall , And with softness touching all 80 MIDDLE ...
... Wait , I prithee , till I come Within earshot of thy hum , - All without is martyrdom . When the south wind , in May days , With a net of shining haze 5 ΙΟ 15 20 25 Silvers the horizon wall , And with softness touching all 80 MIDDLE ...
Contents
248 | |
254 | |
261 | |
268 | |
272 | |
278 | |
287 | |
294 | |
132 | |
159 | |
169 | |
186 | |
193 | |
197 | |
205 | |
216 | |
225 | |
231 | |
241 | |
296 | |
303 | |
310 | |
316 | |
322 | |
329 | |
331 | |
340 | |
351 | |
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
Annabel Lee Arcady Auf wiedersehen Banner battle beauty bells Ben Bolt bird bloom blue Blynken born Boston brave breast breath bright brow bugles Burns dark dead dear death died door dream Emerson eyes fame father flowers Furl gleaming glory grave gray green Habersham hand hath hear heart heaven hills of Habersham Joaquin Miller John Burns Joseph Rodman Drake land laugh Lay him low light lips literary lives LONG'S Lowell Maryland N. P. Willis never Nevermore night o'er old Kentucky home Philip Freneau pine poet Ramoth rice swamp dank sail ship shore silent sing smile snow song soul spirit stars stood sweet tears thee thet thine thou thought tree Twas valleys of Hall Virginia voice volume of poems volumes of verse wait wave wild wind York York city ΙΟ
Popular passages
Page 196 - Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword; His truth is marching on.
Page 59 - Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there; And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep — the dead reign there alone.
Page 196 - As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal. Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel — Since God is marching on.
Page 58 - To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language ; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
Page 30 - Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home; A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there, Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. Home, home, sweet, sweet home! There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
Page 187 - For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths— for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead.
Page 58 - Yet a few days and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground, Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist Thy image.
Page 58 - And, lost each human trace, surrendering up Thine individual being, shalt thou go To mix for ever with the elements, To be a brother to the insensible rock, And, to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain Turns with his share, and treads upon.
Page 158 - The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, Went envying her and me Yes! that was the reason (as all men know. In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night. Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
Page 100 - 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: A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain. Come, read to me some poem, Some simple and heartfelt lay, That shall soothe...