A New Library of Poetry and Song, Volume 2William Cullen Bryant J. B. Ford, 1877 - 934 pages |
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Page 461
... green leaves , - Dewy with nature's tear - drops , as they pass , Grieving , if aught inanimate e'er grieves , Over the unreturning brave , — alas ! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them , but above shall grow ...
... green leaves , - Dewy with nature's tear - drops , as they pass , Grieving , if aught inanimate e'er grieves , Over the unreturning brave , — alas ! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them , but above shall grow ...
Page 463
... green the memory of the brave Who fought and fell at Monterey . ------ We are not many , we who pressed Beside the brave who fell that day ; But who of us has not confessed He'd rather share their warrior rest Than not have been at ...
... green the memory of the brave Who fought and fell at Monterey . ------ We are not many , we who pressed Beside the brave who fell that day ; But who of us has not confessed He'd rather share their warrior rest Than not have been at ...
Page 481
... green , " Stay , stay with us , rest , thou art weary and And guessed some infant hand had placed it worn " ; there , And fain was their war - broken soldier to And prized its hue , so exquisite , so rare . stay ; But sorrow returned ...
... green , " Stay , stay with us , rest , thou art weary and And guessed some infant hand had placed it worn " ; there , And fain was their war - broken soldier to And prized its hue , so exquisite , so rare . stay ; But sorrow returned ...
Page 486
... green Where the first blood was shed , And to my country's independence led ; And others , on our shore , The " Battle Monument " at Baltimore , And that on Bunker's Hill . Ay , and abroad , a few more famous still ; Thy " tomb ...
... green Where the first blood was shed , And to my country's independence led ; And others , on our shore , The " Battle Monument " at Baltimore , And that on Bunker's Hill . Ay , and abroad , a few more famous still ; Thy " tomb ...
Page 487
... green , Rode the laird of Ury ; Close behind him , close beside , Foul of mouth and evil - eyed , Pressed the mob in fury . Flouted him the drunken churl , Jeered at him the serving - girl , Prompt to please her master ; And the begging ...
... green , Rode the laird of Ury ; Close behind him , close beside , Foul of mouth and evil - eyed , Pressed the mob in fury . Flouted him the drunken churl , Jeered at him the serving - girl , Prompt to please her master ; And the begging ...
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Common terms and phrases
arms beauty bells beneath blessed blood blow blue brave breast breath bright cold comes cried dark dead dear death deep dream earth eyes face fair fall fear feel fell field fire flowers give gold grave green hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hills hour Italy JOHN king land leaves light live look Lord mind morning never night o'er once pass peace poor rest rise rock rolled rose round seemed seen shore side sing sleep smile song soul sound spirit stand stars stood stream strong sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought thousand Till true turned voice wave wild wind wings wonder young
Popular passages
Page 626 - Earth has not anything to show more fair : Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers,, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Page 815 - MILTON ! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Page 556 - Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword: His truth is marching on.
Page 783 - Twas sad as sad could be; And we did speak only to break The silence of the sea! All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean. Water, water, everywhere, And all the boards did shrink; Water, water everywhere Nor any drop to drink.
Page 709 - To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull Night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise; Then to come, in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good morrow, Through the sweet-brier, or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine...
Page 461 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet — But hark!
Page 818 - Peace to all such! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; Blest with each talent, and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease; Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Page 723 - The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Page 709 - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful jollity, Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek : Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come, and trip it as you go, On the light fantastic toe...
Page 657 - Hear the tolling of the bells Iron bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people - ah, the people They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who tolling, tolling...