Poems. New, complete ed |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 100
Page 23
... prayers and priva- tions ? Have you so soon forgotten all lessons of love and forgiveness ? This is the house of the ... prayer , ' O Father , forgive them ! ' Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the wicked assail us , Let us ...
... prayers and priva- tions ? Have you so soon forgotten all lessons of love and forgiveness ? This is the house of the ... prayer , ' O Father , forgive them ! ' Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the wicked assail us , Let us ...
Page 65
... prayer ! Like one in prayer I stood . Before me rose an avenue Of tall and sombrous pines ; Abroad their fan - like branches grew , And , where the sunshine darted through , Spread a vapour soft and blue , In long and sloping lines ...
... prayer ! Like one in prayer I stood . Before me rose an avenue Of tall and sombrous pines ; Abroad their fan - like branches grew , And , where the sunshine darted through , Spread a vapour soft and blue , In long and sloping lines ...
Page 67
... prayer ! Descend with broad - winged flight , The welcome , the thrice - prayed for , the most fair , The best - beloved Night ! A PSALM OF LIFE WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG HYMN TO THE NIGHT . 67 HYMN TO THE NIGHT.
... prayer ! Descend with broad - winged flight , The welcome , the thrice - prayed for , the most fair , The best - beloved Night ! A PSALM OF LIFE WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG HYMN TO THE NIGHT . 67 HYMN TO THE NIGHT.
Page 77
... pray , The midnight phantoms feel the spell , The shadows sweep away . Down the broad Vale of Tears afar The spectral camp is fled ; Faith shineth as a morning - star , Our ghastly fears are dead . MIDNIGHT MASS FOR THE DYING YEAR YES ...
... pray , The midnight phantoms feel the spell , The shadows sweep away . Down the broad Vale of Tears afar The spectral camp is fled ; Faith shineth as a morning - star , Our ghastly fears are dead . MIDNIGHT MASS FOR THE DYING YEAR YES ...
Page 78
... Pray , -pray ! " And the hooded clouds , like friars , Tell their beads in drops of rain , And patter their doleful prayers ; But their prayers are all in vain , All in vain ! There he stands in the foul weather . The foolish , fond Old ...
... Pray , -pray ! " And the hooded clouds , like friars , Tell their beads in drops of rain , And patter their doleful prayers ; But their prayers are all in vain , All in vain ! There he stands in the foul weather . The foolish , fond Old ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
angels answer arms bear beautiful beneath birds breath bright called close clouds comes dark dead death deep dream earth Enter eyes face fair fall father fear feel feet fell fire flowers follow forest Friar give gleam golden grave hand hast head hear heard heart heaven Hiawatha holy hour King land Laughing leaves light living look maiden morning never night NOTE o'er once pass play Pray prayer Prec Prince Henry rest rise river rose round sail sang seemed shadow shining side silent singing sleep soft song soul sound speak spirit stand stars stood strong sweet Take thee things thou thought Till unto Vict village voice wait walls wandered waves wild wind young youth
Popular passages
Page 209 - 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 68 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled...
Page 169 - Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low.
Page 145 - Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds, That ope in the month of May. The skipper he stood beside the helm, His pipe was in his mouth, And he watched how the veering flaw did blow The smoke now West, now South. Then up and spake an old Sailor, Had sailed the Spanish Main, "I pray thee, put into yonder port, For I fear a hurricane. "Last night, the moon had a golden ring, And to-night no moon we see!
Page 235 - And nights devoid of ease, Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies. Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That, follows after prayer. Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice. And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares that infest the day, Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.
Page 147 - And ever the fitful gusts between A sound came from the land ; It was the sound of the trampling surf, On the rocks and the hard sea-sand.
Page 3 - 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 255 - THOUGH the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small ; Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all.
Page 287 - THE BUILDERS. ALL are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Time : Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme. Nothing useless is, or low ; Each thing in its place is best ; And what seems but idle show Strengthens and supports the rest.
Page 777 - A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." I remember the sea-fight far away, How it thundered o'er the tide, And the dead captains, as they lay In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay, Where they in battle died. And the sound of that mournful song Goes through me with a thrill : " A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.