The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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Page 6
... rushing stream , With the wan moon overhead , There stood , as in an awful dream , The army of the dead . White as a sea - fog , landward bound , The spectral camp was seen , And with a sorrowful , deep sound , The river flowed between ...
... rushing stream , With the wan moon overhead , There stood , as in an awful dream , The army of the dead . White as a sea - fog , landward bound , The spectral camp was seen , And with a sorrowful , deep sound , The river flowed between ...
Page 28
... rushing , So fresh and wondrous clear . I know not what came o'er me , Nor who the counsel gave ; But I must hasten downward , All with my pilgrim - stave ; Downward , and ever farther , And ever the brook beside ; And ever fresher ...
... rushing , So fresh and wondrous clear . I know not what came o'er me , Nor who the counsel gave ; But I must hasten downward , All with my pilgrim - stave ; Downward , and ever farther , And ever the brook beside ; And ever fresher ...
Page 90
... ( rushing forward . ) Hold ! hold ! This is too much . What means this outrage ? Lara . First , what right have you To question thus a nobleman of Spain ? Vict . I too am noble , and you are no more ! Out of my sight ! Lara . Are you the ...
... ( rushing forward . ) Hold ! hold ! This is too much . What means this outrage ? Lara . First , what right have you To question thus a nobleman of Spain ? Vict . I too am noble , and you are no more ! Out of my sight ! Lara . Are you the ...
Page 99
... rushing current of his speech As rocks o'er rivers hang . Have you forgotten ? Padre C. Indeed , I have . Oh , those were pleasant days , Those college days ! I ne'er shall see the like ! I had not buried then so many hopes ! I had not ...
... rushing current of his speech As rocks o'er rivers hang . Have you forgotten ? Padre C. Indeed , I have . Oh , those were pleasant days , Those college days ! I ne'er shall see the like ! I had not buried then so many hopes ! I had not ...
Page 128
... rushed to the doorway . Vain was the hope of escape ; and cries and fierce imprecations Rang through the house of prayer ; and high o'er the heads of the others Rose , with his arms uplifted , the figure of Basil the blacksmith , As ...
... rushed to the doorway . Vain was the hope of escape ; and cries and fierce imprecations Rang through the house of prayer ; and high o'er the heads of the others Rose , with his arms uplifted , the figure of Basil the blacksmith , As ...
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Common terms and phrases
Acadian Angel answered arrows beautiful behold beneath birds breath bright Chibiabos Chispa clouds cried Dacotahs dance dark dead death dream earth Edenhall Elsie eyes face father fear Filled flowers forest Friar Gipsy Gitche Gumee gleam golden grave guests hand hast hear heard heart heaven Hiawatha Hoheneck holy Iagoo John Alden Kenabeek King Kwasind land Lara Laughing Water light listen look loud Lucifer maiden meadow Miles Standish Minnehaha Mondamin moon morning Mudjekeewis night o'er old Nokomis Osseo pass Pau-Puk-Keewis Plymouth Pray prayer Prec Prince Henry river rose round rushing sail Sandalphon sang shadows shining silent singing sleep song Song of Hiawatha sorrow soul sound spake stand Standish stars stood strong sunshine sweet Tharaw thee thou art thought unto Ursula Vict village voice wampum waves Wenonah whispered wigwam wild wind wonder words youth
Popular passages
Page 4 - Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us, Footprints on the sands of time; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again.
Page 338 - It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes. Toiling, rejoicing, -sorrowing, Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose.
Page 338 - His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
Page 162 - In the elder days of Art, Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part ; For the Gods see everywhere. Let us do our work as well, Both the unseen and the seen ; Make the house, where Gods may dwell, Beautiful, entire, and clean.
Page 365 - LISTEN, my children, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventyfive ; Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year. He said to his friend, "If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower as a signal light, — One, if by land, and two, if by sea ; And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village...
Page 409 - BETWEEN the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day's occupations, That is known as the Children's Hour. I hear in the chamber above me The patter of little feet, The sound of a door that is opened, And voices soft and sweet. From my study I see in the lamplight, Descending the broad hall stair, Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra, And Edith with golden hair. A whisper, and then a silence : Yet I know by their merry eyes They are plotting and planning together...
Page 4 - Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where he was once a child. "They shall all bloom in fields of light, Transplanted by my care, And saints, upon their garments white, These sacred blossoms wear.
Page 110 - THE day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, 'That my soul cannot resist: A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain. Come, read to me some poem, Some...
Page 342 - This was the peasant's last Good-night, A voice replied, far up the height, Excelsior ! At break of day, as heavenward The pious monks of Saint Bernard Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, A voice cried through the startled air Excelsior ! A traveller, by the faithful hound, Half-buried in the snow was found, Still grasping in his hand of ice That banner with the strange device Excelsior ! There in the twilight cold and gray, Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay, And from the sky, serene and far, A voice...
Page 157 - Tis of the wave and not the rock; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale ! In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the shore. Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee.