Bryant, and His Friends: Some Reminiscences of the Knickerbocker Writers |
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Page 41 - Yet a few days, and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more In all his course, nor yet in the cold ground Where thy pale form was laid with many tears, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist Thy image.
Page 360 - Such graves as his are pilgrim shrines, Shrines to no code or creed confined; The Delphian vales, the Palestines, The Meccas of the mind.
Page 43 - Blessings be with them — and eternal praise. Who gave us nobler loves and nobler cares — The poets, who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays ! Oh-!
Page 410 - MONTEREY. WE were not many, — we who stood Before the iron sleet that day ; Yet many a gallant spirit would Give half his years if but he could Have been with us at Monterey, Now here, now there, the shot it hailed In deadly drifts of fiery spray, Yet not a single soldier quailed When wounded comrades round them wailed Their dying shout at Monterey.
Page 302 - 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 393 - Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home ! A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. Home ! home ! sweet, sweet home ! There's no place like home : there's no place like home.
Page 39 - OH, fairest of the rural maids ! Thy birth was in the forest shades ; Green boughs, and glimpses of the sky, Were all that met thine infant eye. Thy sports, thy wanderings, when a child, Were ever in the sylvan wild ; And all the beauty of the place Is in thy heart and on thy fane.
Page 279 - Yes, I am proud ; I must be proud to see Men, not afraid of God, afraid of me ; Safe from the bar, the pulpit, and the throne, Yet touch'd and sham'd by ridicule alone.
Page 366 - the soldiers cried, The outer trenches guarding. When the heated guns of the camps allied Grew weary of bombarding. " The dark Redan, in silent scoff, Lay, grim and threatening, under ; And the tawny mound of the Malakoff No longer belched its thunder. ' There was a pause. A guardsman said, ' We storm the forts to-morrow ! Sing while we may: another day Will bring enough of sorrow.
Page 58 - No school of long experience, that the world Is full of guilt and misery, and hast seen Enough of all its sorrows, crimes, and cares, To tire thee of it, enter this wild wood And view the haunts of Nature. The calm shade Shall bring a kindred calm, and the sweet breeze That makes the green leaves dance, shall waft a balm To thy sick heart.