Longfellow, and Other Essays |
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Popular passages
Page 22 - Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! Sail on, O UNION strong and great! Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate.
Page 137 - So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...
Page 23 - O'er the ocean wild and wide ! For my heart was hot and restless, And my life was full of care, And the burden laid upon me Seemed greater than I could bear. But now it has fallen from me, It is buried in the sea ; And only the sorrow of others Throws its shadow over me.
Page 190 - Certain people of importance" (Such he gave his daily dreadful line to) "Entered and would seize, forsooth, the poet." Says the poet — "Then I stopped my painting.
Page 137 - Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me...
Page 28 - Most wretched men Are cradled into poetry by wrong, They learn in suffering what they teach in song.
Page 136 - They viewed the vast immeasurable abyss Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild, Up from the bottom turned by furious winds And surging waves, as mountains, to assault Heaven's height, and with the centre mix the pole, ' ' ' Silence, ye troubled waves ! and thou deep, peace...
Page 244 - No more — no more — no more" — (Such language holds the solemn sea To the sands upon the shore) Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree, Or the stricken eagle soar! And all my days are trances, And all my nightly dreams Are where thy dark eye glances, And where thy footstep gleams — In what ethereal dances, By what eternal streams!
Page 137 - And from thence can soar as soon To the corners of the moon. Mortals that would follow me, Love virtue ; she alone is free ; She can teach ye how to climb 1020 Higher than the sphery chime ; Or, if Virtue feeble were, Heaven itself would stoop to her.
Page 22 - WHEN descends on the Atlantic The gigantic Storm-wind of the equinox, Landward in his wrath he scourges The toiling surges, Laden with seaweed from the rocks: From Bermuda's reefs; from edges Of sunken ledges, In some far-off, bright Azore; From Bahama, and the dashing, 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...