The Household Book of Poetry

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Charles Anderson Dana
D. Appleton, 1879 - American poetry - 816 pages
 

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Page 726 - Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle. In the bivouac of life. Be not like dumb, driven cattle, Be a hero in the strife ! Trust no future, bowe'er pleasant ! Let the dead past bury its dead! Act—act in the living present ! Heart within, and
Page 719 - for these I raise The song of thanks and praise ; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishing, Blank misgivings of a creature Moving about in worlds not realized, High instincts, before which our mortal nature Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised— Hut for those first
Page 708 - coward-slave, we pass him by ; We dare be poor for a' that. For a' that, and a' that, Our toils obscure, and a' that ; The rank is but the guinea's stamp— The man's the gowd for a' that. What tho' on hamely fare we dine, Wear hodden grey, and a
Page 539 - sphere ; And I serve the fairy queen, To dew her orbs upon the green ; The cowslips tall her pensioners be ; In their gold coats spots you see : Those be rubies, fairy favors— In those freckles live their savors. I must go seek some dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. FAIRY
Page 717 - a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light— The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore : Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen, I now can
Page 244 - s not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come ; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error, and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Page 731 - Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart— Go forth, under the open sky, and list To nature's teachings, while from all around— Earth and her waters, and the depths of air— Comes a still voice : Yet a few days, and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more In all his course ; nor
Page 637 - may be again ? Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang As if her song could have no ending; I saw her singing at her work And o'er her sickle bending ;— I listened motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore Long after it was heard no more. WILLIAM
Page 521 - we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow. We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow 1 Lightly they
Page 509 - spreads aloft by those pure eyes And perfect witness of all-judging Jove ; As he pronounces lastly on each deed, Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed. 0 fountain Arethuse, and thou honored flood, Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds, That strain I heard was of a higher mood ; Bat now

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