American Poems: Longfellow: Whittier: Bryant: Holmes: Lowell: EmersonHoughton, Mifflin, 1894 - 453 pages |
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Page 15
... , through long gen- erations . But a celestial brightness - a more ethereal beauty- Shone on her face and encircled her form , when , after confession , Homeward serenely she walked with God's benedic- tion upon her EVANGELINE . 15.
... , through long gen- erations . But a celestial brightness - a more ethereal beauty- Shone on her face and encircled her form , when , after confession , Homeward serenely she walked with God's benedic- tion upon her EVANGELINE . 15.
Page 20
... face of the morning , Gladdened the earth with its light , and ripened thought into action . She was a woman now ... faces of children . II . Now had the season returned , when the nights grow colder and longer , And the retreating sun ...
... face of the morning , Gladdened the earth with its light , and ripened thought into action . She was a woman now ... faces of children . II . Now had the season returned , when the nights grow colder and longer , And the retreating sun ...
Page 24
... Faces , clumsily carved in oak , on the back of his arm- chair Laughed in the flickering light , and the pewter plates on the dresser 205 Caught and reflected the flame , as shields of armies the sunshine . Fragments of song the old man ...
... Faces , clumsily carved in oak , on the back of his arm- chair Laughed in the flickering light , and the pewter plates on the dresser 205 Caught and reflected the flame , as shields of armies the sunshine . Fragments of song the old man ...
Page 25
... the box of tobacco ; 225 Never so much thyself art thou as when , through the curling Smoke of the pipe or the forge , thy friendly and jovial face gleams Round and red as the harvest moon through the mist EVANGELINE . 25.
... the box of tobacco ; 225 Never so much thyself art thou as when , through the curling Smoke of the pipe or the forge , thy friendly and jovial face gleams Round and red as the harvest moon through the mist EVANGELINE . 25.
Page 32
... " 325 Silenced , but not convinced , when the story was ended , the blacksmith Stood like a man who fain would speak , but findeth no language ; All his thoughts were congealed into lines on his face 32 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW .
... " 325 Silenced , but not convinced , when the story was ended , the blacksmith Stood like a man who fain would speak , but findeth no language ; All his thoughts were congealed into lines on his face 32 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW .
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Common terms and phrases
Acadian Agassiz Annapolis River Atlantic Monthly beauty behold beneath bobolink breath Captain cheer cloud dark door dream England Evangeline eyes face fair father feet fire flowers forest Gabriel gleamed glow golden Grand-Pré grave gray hand head heard heart heaven hexameter hills human Indian John Alden Jotun Julius Cæsar land lapstone laugh light lips living look loud maiden Mayflower meadows Miles Standish mingled morning mountain murmur nature never night Nova Scotia o'er ocean passed paused Phillips Academy Plymouth poems poet poetry prayer Priscilla Puritan river rock rose round sail SAMUEL SEWALL seemed Sella shade shadow shining ship shore silent Sir Launfal smile snow song sorrow soul sound spake stood story stream strong summer sweet thee thou thought tree village voice wall wind winter Witch's Daughter wonder woods words youth
Popular passages
Page 34 - Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels. Thus was the evening passed. Anon the bell from the belfry Rang out the hour of nine, the village curfew, and straightway Rose the guests and departed ; and
Page 197 - And ever, when a louder blast The merrier up its roaring draught The great throat of the chimney laughed, The house-dog on his paws outspread iw Laid to the fire his drowsy head, The cat's dark silhouette on the wall A couchant tiger's seemed to fall; And, for the winter fireside meet, Between the andirons
Page 99 - Thousands of throbbing hearts, where theirs are at rest and forever, Thousands of aching brains, where theirs no longer are busy, Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs have ceased from their labors, Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have completed their journey! Still stands the forest primeval; but under the shade of its branches
Page 334 - The hand that rounded Peter's dome, And groined the aisles of Christian Rome, Wrought in a sad sincerity; Himself from God he could not free ; He builded better than he knew; — The conscious stone to beauty grew.
Page 172 - BUILD me straight, O worthy Master! Stanch and strong, a goodly vessel, That shall laugh at all disaster, And with wave and whirlwind wrestle! " The merchant's word Delighted the Master heard; For his heart was in his work, and the heart Giveth grace unto every Art. That
Page 192 - air Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven, And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit Around the radiant fireplace, inclosed In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
Page 183 - To-day the vessel shall be launched ! With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched, And o'er the bay, Slowly, in all his splendors dight, The great sun rises to behold the sight. 265 The ocean old, Centuries old, Strong as youth, and as uncontrolled, Paces restless to and fro, Up and down the sands of gold.
Page 91 - And the streets still reecho the names of the trees of the forest, As if they fain would appease the Dryads whose haunts they molested. There from the troubled sea had Evangeline landed, an exile, Finding among the children of Penn a home and a country. There old Rene Leblanc had died; and when
Page 10 - Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest. 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 ? Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of
Page 99 - isso Still stands the forest primeval; but far away from its shadow, Side by side, in their nameless graves, the lovers are sleeping. Under the humble walls of the little Catholic churchyard, In the heart of the city, they lie, unknown and unnoticed. Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flowing beside them,