Golden Leaves from the American Poets |
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Page 11
... heart alone : genuine royal paper is his breast ; the kinds most precious , purest , best , John Trumball . THE FOР . ( 1772. ) HOW blest the brainless fop , whose prais Is doomed to grace these happy day , When well - bred vice can ...
... heart alone : genuine royal paper is his breast ; the kinds most precious , purest , best , John Trumball . THE FOР . ( 1772. ) HOW blest the brainless fop , whose prais Is doomed to grace these happy day , When well - bred vice can ...
Page 31
... heart , to meet thee in Savoy ! Doomed o'er the world through devious paths to roam , Each clime my country , and each house my home , My soul is soothed , my cares have found an end I greet my long - lost , unforgotten friend . For ...
... heart , to meet thee in Savoy ! Doomed o'er the world through devious paths to roam , Each clime my country , and each house my home , My soul is soothed , my cares have found an end I greet my long - lost , unforgotten friend . For ...
Page 33
... heart and palate chaste Preserve my pure , hereditary taste . There are who strive to stamp with disrepute The luscious food , because it feeds the brute ; In tropes of high - strained wit , while gaudy prigs Compare thy nursling man to ...
... heart and palate chaste Preserve my pure , hereditary taste . There are who strive to stamp with disrepute The luscious food , because it feeds the brute ; In tropes of high - strained wit , while gaudy prigs Compare thy nursling man to ...
Page 34
... heart , To make mankind to social virtue sour , Cram o'er each dish , and be what they devour ; For this the kitchen muse first framed her book , Commanding sweat to stream from every cook ; Children no more their antic gambols tried ...
... heart , To make mankind to social virtue sour , Cram o'er each dish , and be what they devour ; For this the kitchen muse first framed her book , Commanding sweat to stream from every cook ; Children no more their antic gambols tried ...
Page 45
... heart . Yet still did the heart of fair Ellen implore A something that could not be found ; Like a sailor she seemed on a desolate shore , With nor house , nor a tree , nor a sound but the roar Of breakers high dashing around . From ...
... heart . Yet still did the heart of fair Ellen implore A something that could not be found ; Like a sailor she seemed on a desolate shore , With nor house , nor a tree , nor a sound but the roar Of breakers high dashing around . From ...
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Common terms and phrases
ANNABEL Lee beauty bells beneath bird bless blest blood blue bosom brave breast breath breeze bright brow burning charms cloud cold courser dark dead death deep dream earth fair fairy falchion fire flame floating flowers gaze gleam glorious glory glow golden grave green hand hast Hasty Pudding hath heart heaven HELON hills holy hour land leaves light lips living lonely look lyre maize moon morning never Nevermore night nursling o'er old oaken bucket pale passed prayer Quoth the Raven rapture rock roll round shade shadow Shammar shine shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring star-spangled banner stars storm stream sweet swell tears tempest thee thine thou art thought throne toil towers tread tree Twas twill voice water-sprites wave WHIP-POOR-WILL wild wind wing witch-hazel youth
Popular passages
Page 84 - 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.
Page 292 - 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. And children coming home from school Look in at the open door; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing floor.
Page 249 - But the Raven still beguiling All my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in Front of bird and bust and door ; Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking What this ominous bird of yore — What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, Gaunt and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking
Page 86 - All that breathe Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come And make their bed with thee.
Page 84 - Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart, Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings, while from all around — Earth, and her waters, and the depths of air — Comes a still voice...
Page 278 - Were half the power, that fills the world with terror, Were half the wealth, bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals nor forts: The warrior's name would be a name abhorred!
Page 246 - I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow;— vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow— sorrow for the lost Lenore— For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Nameless here for evermore.
Page 94 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Page 94 - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast, The desert and illimitable air, Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Page 86 - 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, that 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.