Poems, Volume 2Ticknor and Fields, 1850 |
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Page 11
... it watches o'er the town . As the summer morn was breaking , on that lofty tower I stood , And the world threw off the darkness , like the weeds of widowhood . Thick with towns and hamlets studded streams and vapors gray 11.
... it watches o'er the town . As the summer morn was breaking , on that lofty tower I stood , And the world threw off the darkness , like the weeds of widowhood . Thick with towns and hamlets studded streams and vapors gray 11.
Page 58
... Stood the great giant Algebar , Orion , hunter of the beast ! His sword hung gleaming by his side And , on his arm , the lion's hide Scattered across the midnight air The golden radiance of its hair . The moon was pallid , but not faint ...
... Stood the great giant Algebar , Orion , hunter of the beast ! His sword hung gleaming by his side And , on his arm , the lion's hide Scattered across the midnight air The golden radiance of its hair . The moon was pallid , but not faint ...
Page 59
... stood in strange alarm ! And suddenly from his outstretched arm Down fell the red skin of the lion Into the river at his feet . His mighty club no longer beat The forehead of the bull ; but he Reeled as of yore beside the sea , When ...
... stood in strange alarm ! And suddenly from his outstretched arm Down fell the red skin of the lion Into the river at his feet . His mighty club no longer beat The forehead of the bull ; but he Reeled as of yore beside the sea , When ...
Page 60
... cast Upon the heavenly lyre its blast , And on from sphere to sphere the Reechoed down the burning chord " Forevermore , forevermore , The reign of violence is o'er ! " THE BRIDGE . I STOOD On the bridge at midnight. 60 POEMS .
... cast Upon the heavenly lyre its blast , And on from sphere to sphere the Reechoed down the burning chord " Forevermore , forevermore , The reign of violence is o'er ! " THE BRIDGE . I STOOD On the bridge at midnight. 60 POEMS .
Page 61
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. THE BRIDGE . I STOOD On the bridge at midnight , As the clocks were striking the hour , And the moon rose o'er the city , Behind the dark church - tower . I saw her bright reflection In the waters under me ...
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. THE BRIDGE . I STOOD On the bridge at midnight , As the clocks were striking the hour , And the moon rose o'er the city , Behind the dark church - tower . I saw her bright reflection In the waters under me ...
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Common terms and phrases
Acadian Albrecht Dürer aloft art thou Balder Basil the blacksmith Béarn beautiful behold belfry BELFRY OF BRUGES bell beneath birds blossom breath bride Bruges burning Christmas carols cried dark dead descended door Evangeline Evangeline's eyes face fair farmer Father fire Ever higher fireside forest forever Forever never Gabriel Gascon gaze Ghent gleam golden Grand-Pré Guy de Dampierre hand head hear heard heart heaven higher Sing JULIUS MOSEN labor land laugh light lips loud maiden meadows Minnesingers morning never Never forever Nuremberg o'er ocean Ozark Mountains passed prairies prayer priest rain rise river rose round sail Saint sang seemed shadow ships shore silent slowly smile song sorrow soul sound spake stands stars stood sweet Tharaw thee thou thought tide toil unto village voice wander wave weary whispered wild wind words youth
Popular passages
Page 22 - Down the dark future, through long generations, The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease; And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, I hear once more the voice of Christ say, "Peace !" Peace ! and no longer from its brazen portals The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies ! But beautiful as songs of the immortals, The holy melodies of love arise.
Page 343 - She is not dead, — the child of our affection, — But gone unto that school Where she no longer needs our poor protection, And Christ himself doth rule. 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.
Page 126 - Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small; Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all.
Page 73 - Read from some humbler poet, Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the eyelids start; Who, through long days of labor, And nights devoid of ease, Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies.
Page 138 - This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath it Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman?
Page 342 - Let us be patient ! These severe afflictions Not from the ground arise, But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise. We see but dimly through the mists and vapors ; Amid these earthly damps What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps.
Page 304 - Standing before Her father's door, He saw the form of his promised bride. The sun shone on her golden hair, And her cheek was glowing fresh and fair, With the breath of morn and the soft sea air.
Page 137 - THIS is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
Page 141 - Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with labor incessant, Shut out the turbulent tides ; but at stated seasons the flood-gates Opened, and welcomed the sea to wander at will o'er the meadows.
Page 189 - This is the house of the Prince of Peace, and would you profane it Thus with violent deeds and hearts overflowing with hatred? Lo! where the crucified Christ from his cross is gazing upon you! See! in those sorrowful eyes what meekness and holy compassion! Hark! how those lips still repeat the prayer, 'O Father, forgive them!