Single Famous Poems

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Rossiter Johnson
H. Holt, 1877 - 285 Seiten
 

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Seite 102 - Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave: And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave...
Seite 97 - Mysterious Night ! when our first Parent knew Thee from report divine, and heard thy name, Did he not tremble for this lovely frame, This glorious canopy of light and blue ? Yet 'neath a curtain of translucent dew, Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, Hesperus with the host of heaven came; And lo, Creation widened in man's view.
Seite 195 - THE muffled drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo ; No more on life's parade shall meet That brave and fallen few. On fame's eternal camping ground Their silent tents are spread, And glory guards, with solemn round, The bivouac of the dead.
Seite 113 - HOW dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view ! The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew...
Seite 197 - Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee! E'en though it be a cross That raiseth me; Still all my song shall be. Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee!
Seite 102 - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses?
Seite 248 - By Nebo's lonely mountain, On this side Jordan's wave, In a vale in the land of Moab There lies a lonely grave. And no man knows that sepulchre, And no man saw it e'er, For the angels of God upturned the sod, And laid the dead man there.
Seite 136 - Of her bright face one glance will trace A picture on the brain, And of her voice in echoing hearts A sound must long remain; But memory, such as mine of her, So very much endears, When death is nigh my latest sigh Will not be life's, but hers.
Seite 8 - FAIR stood the wind for France, When we our sails advance, Nor now to prove our chance Longer will tarry; But putting to the main, At Kaux, the mouth of Seine, With all his martial train, Landed King Harry.
Seite 118 - Afar in the desert I love to ride, With the silent Bush-boy alone by my side...

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