Masterpieces of American Literature: Franklin, Irving, Bryant, Webster, Everett, Longfellow, Hawthorne, Whittier, Emerson, Holmes, Lowell, Thoreau, O'Reilly : with Biographical Sketches and Portraits

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John Kneeland, Henry Nathan Wheeler
Houghton, Mifflin, 1891 - 462 Seiten
 

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Seite 39 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ? As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along. Seek'st thou the plashy brink Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,
Seite 40 - Hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart. He who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight. • In the long way that I must
Seite 39 - 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 so About him, and lies down to pleasant
Seite 122 - AGBIPPA, Occult Philosophy, Book I. ch. v. " Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow; and, driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight; the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven, And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
Seite 388 - gloom of a window's embrasure, Sat the lovers and whispered together, beholding the moon rise Over the pallid sea and the silvery mist of the meadows. 350 Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels. Thus was the evening
Seite 265 - The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, And there 's never a leaf nor a blade too mean To be some happy creature's palace; The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves,
Seite 52 - for want of a shoe the horse was lost ; and for want of a horse the rider was lost; being overtaken and slain by the enemy; all for want of a little care about a horse-shoe nail! So much for industry, my friends, and attention
Seite 275 - This water His blood that died on the tree; The Holy Supper is kept, indeed, In whatso we share with another's need: Not what we give, but what we share, — For the gift without the giver is bare
Seite 453 - Thousands of throbbing hearts, where theirs are at rest and forever, Thousands of aching brains, where theirs no longer are busy, Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs have ceased from their labors, Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have completed their journey! Still stands the forest primeval; but under the shade of its branches
Seite 39 - 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

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