The New-York Book of Poetry |
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beam beauty beneath bird bless bosom bound break breast breath breeze bright brow called charm clouds comes dark dead death deep dream earth echo face fade fair fall fear feel fields flowers forest friends gaze glance gleam glory glow green hand hath heart heaven hills hope hour JOHN INMAN land leaves life's light live lone look lost meet memory morning mountain nature never night o'er once passed pride pure rest rich rise rock roll rose round scene shade shadows shore side sigh sight silent skies sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul sound spirit spring star stream sweet tears tell thee thine thou thought tide tree turn visions voice waters waves weep wild wind wings wood young youth
Popular passages
Page 217 - He was chubby and plump ; a right jolly old elf; And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself. A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings ; then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle , But I heard him exclaim,...
Page 118 - Flag of the seas I on ocean wave Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave; When death, careering on the gale. Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, And frighted waves rush wildly back Before the broadside's reeling rack, Each dying wanderer of the sea...
Page 215 - Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse ; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there...
Page 118 - Flag of the free heart's hope and home, By angel hands to valor given ! Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven. Forever float that standard sheet ! Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us ! JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE.
Page 216 - As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, So, up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of toys — and St. Nicholas, too. And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; A bundle...
Page 116 - WHEN Freedom from her mountain height Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night. And set the stars of glory there. She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies, And striped its pure celestial white With streakings of the morning light...
Page 118 - Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, And frighted waves rush wildly back Before the broadside's reeling rack, Each dying wanderer of the sea Shall look at once to heaven and thee, And smile to see thy splendors fly In triumph o'er his closing eye. Flag of the free heart's hope and home, By angel hands to valor given, Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven. Forever float that standard sheet! Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath...
Page 216 - Gave the lustre of midday to objects below, When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer, With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name; "Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donder and Blitzen! To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! Now dash away! Dash away!...
Page 3 - Its snarling wolf-foe bit the ground, And, with its moaning cry, The beaver sank beneath the wound Its pond-built Venice by.
Page 217 - He was chubby and plump — a right jolly old elf — And I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself. A wink of his eye and a twist of his head Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose. And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle. And away they all flew like the down of a thistle; But I heard him exclaim,...
Bibliographic information
| Title | The New-York Book of Poetry |
| Editor | Charles Fenno Hoffman |
| Publisher | G. Dearborn, 1837 |
| Original from | the University of California |
| Digitized | 20 Sep 2007 |
| ISBN | 0608418552, 9780608418551 |
| Length | 253 pages |
| Export Citation | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |