Poems of Places: England and Wales, Volume 4

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
J.R. Osgood and Company, 1876

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Page 173 - And nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
Page 199 - Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
Page 107 - Nature never did betray The heart that loved her ; 'tis her privilege Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith that all which we behold Is...
Page 104 - Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood, In which the burthen of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world, Is lightened: - that serene and blessed mood, In which the affections gently lead us on...
Page 193 - Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me. " And where are they ? I pray you tell/ She answered, " Seven are we; And two of us at Conway dwell, And two arc gone to sea; " Two of us in the churchyard lie, My sister and my brother; And, in the churchyard cottage, I Dwell near them with my mother.
Page 194 - And often after sunset, Sir, When it is light and fair, I take my little porringer, And eat my supper there.
Page 197 - On a rock whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the poet stood (Loose his beard, and hoary hair Streamed like a meteor to the troubled air), And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
Page 226 - Big with the Vanity of State; But transient is the Smile of Fate ! A little Rule, a little Sway, A Sun-beam in a "Winter's day Is all the Proud and Mighty have, Between the Cradle and the Grave.
Page 108 - Nor wilt thou then forget, That after many wanderings, many years Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs, And this green pastoral landscape, were to me More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake!
Page 108 - For all sweet sounds and harmonies ; oh, then, If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, And these my exhortations ! Nor, perchance, If I should be where I no more can hear Thy voice...

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