Poems: By William Cullen BryantD. Appleton, 1862 - 264 páginas |
Dentro del libro
Resultados 1-5 de 25
Página 39
... weep . The light of smiles shall fill again The lids that overflow with tears ; And weary hours of woe and pain Are promises of happier years . There is a day of sunny rest For every dark and troubled night ; And grief may bide an ...
... weep . The light of smiles shall fill again The lids that overflow with tears ; And weary hours of woe and pain Are promises of happier years . There is a day of sunny rest For every dark and troubled night ; And grief may bide an ...
Página 43
... weep them yet again And thou from some I love wilt take a life Dear to me as my own . Yet while the spell Is on my spirit , and I talk with thee In sight of all thy trophies , face to face , Meet is it that my voice should utter forth ...
... weep them yet again And thou from some I love wilt take a life Dear to me as my own . Yet while the spell Is on my spirit , and I talk with thee In sight of all thy trophies , face to face , Meet is it that my voice should utter forth ...
Página 47
... in mockery of prayer , Are left to cumber earth . Shuddering I look On what is written , yet I blot not out The desultory numbers ; let them stand , The record of an idle revery . THE MASSACRE AT SCIO . WEEP not for Scio's children.
... in mockery of prayer , Are left to cumber earth . Shuddering I look On what is written , yet I blot not out The desultory numbers ; let them stand , The record of an idle revery . THE MASSACRE AT SCIO . WEEP not for Scio's children.
Página 48
By William Cullen Bryant William Cullen Bryant. THE MASSACRE AT SCIO . WEEP not for Scio's children slain ; Their blood , by Turkish falchions shed , Sends not its cry to Heaven in vain For vengeance on the murderer's head . Though high ...
By William Cullen Bryant William Cullen Bryant. THE MASSACRE AT SCIO . WEEP not for Scio's children slain ; Their blood , by Turkish falchions shed , Sends not its cry to Heaven in vain For vengeance on the murderer's head . Though high ...
Página 49
... loveliest there . " Yet , oft to thine own Indian maid Even there thy thoughts will earthward stray , To her who sits where thou wert laid , And weeps the hours away , 49 Yet almost can her grief forget , To think that 5.
... loveliest there . " Yet , oft to thine own Indian maid Even there thy thoughts will earthward stray , To her who sits where thou wert laid , And weeps the hours away , 49 Yet almost can her grief forget , To think that 5.
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Términos y frases comunes
amid beauty beneath bird blood bloom blossoms blue boughs breast breath bright brook brow calm clouds dark dead death deep deer dreams dwell earth EARTH'S CHILDREN eyes fair flowers forest gaze gentle glad glen glide glittering glorious glory grass grave Greece green GREEN MOUNTAIN BOYS groves hand hear heart heaven hills hour HYMN land leaves light look lovers walk maid maiden maize Maquon MARY MAGDALEN mighty mighty heart morning mountain murmur night o'er pass pleasant PROVENÇAL rest rill Rizpah rocks round ruffed grouse rustling savannas shade shadow shine shore sight silent skies sleep smile soft song sound spirit spring Stockbridge stream summer sweet swell tears tempest thee thine thou art thou dost thou hast trees tulip-tree vale voice walk wandering warriors waters weep wild WILLIAM LEGGETT wind wind-flower WINDECK wings woods youth
Pasajes populares
Página 24 - To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
Página 25 - Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun; the vales, Stretching in pensive quietness between; The venerable woods; rivers that move In majesty ; and the complaining brooks, That make the meadows green; and, poured round all, Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste,— Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man.
Página 25 - His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come And make their bed with thee.
Página 30 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far through their rosy depths dost thou pursue Thy solitary way...
Página 89 - My heart is awed within me when I think Of the great miracle that still goes on, In silence round me, — the perpetual work Of thy creation, finished, yet renewed Forever.
Página 26 - Shall one by one be gathered to thy side, By those, who in their turn shall follow them. So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, which moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night. Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Página 102 - Alas ! they all are in their graves ; the gentle race of flowers Are lying in their lowly beds with the fair and good of ours. The rain is falling where they lie; but the cold November rain Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.
Página 227 - Freedom, thou art not, as poets dream, A fair young girl, with light and delicate limbs, And wavy tresses, gushing from the cap With which the Roman master crowned his slave When he took off the gyves. A bearded man, Armed to the teeth, art thou ; one mailed hand Grasps the broad shield, and one the sword ; thy brow, Glorious in beauty though it be, is scarred With tokens of old wars ; thy massive limbs Are strong with struggling. Power at thee has launched 31 * His bolts, and with his lightnings...
Página 144 - THOU blossom bright with autumn dew, And colored with the heaven's own blue. That openest when the quiet light Succeeds the keen and frosty night. Thou comest not when violets lean O'er wandering brooks and springs unseen Or columbines, in purple dressed, Nod o'er the ground-bird's hidden nest. Thou waitest late and com'st alone, When woods are bare and birds are flown And frosts and shortening days portend The aged year is near his end. Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye Look through its fringes...
Página 87 - And from the gray old trunks that high in heaven Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound Of the invisible breath that swayed at once All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed His spirit with the thought of boundless power And inaccessible majesty. Ah, why Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore Only among the crowd, and under roofs That our frail hands have raised...