Voices of the True-heartedMerrihew & Thompson, printers, 1846 - 288 pages |
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Page 159
... Beside the ungathered rice he lay , His sickle in his hand ; His breast was bare , his matted hair Was buried in the sand . Again , in the mist and shadow of sleep , He saw his native land . Wide through the landscape of his dreams The ...
... Beside the ungathered rice he lay , His sickle in his hand ; His breast was bare , his matted hair Was buried in the sand . Again , in the mist and shadow of sleep , He saw his native land . Wide through the landscape of his dreams The ...
Autres éditions - Tout afficher
Voices of the True-Hearted (Classic Reprint) Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Aucun aperçu disponible - 2015 |
Expressions et termes fréquents
angels beautiful beneath birds blessing blood bosom breast breath brother brow calm child clouds cold dark death deep divine doth dream earth evil eyes face faith father fear feel flowers freedom friends gentle give gone grace grave hand Hannah Lee happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven holy hope hour human human voice JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL JOHN G land light lips live look LYDIA MARIA CHILD MARY HOWITT mind mother N. P. WILLIS nature neath never night o'er peace poor prayer prison racter round Rübezahl seemed silent sing slave slavery sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spirit stars strong sunshine sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought toil true truth unto Vanity Fair voice weary weep wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind words young
Fréquemment cités
Page 270 - 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 165 - What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock. The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Page 207 - THREE years she grew in sun and shower; Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower On earth was never sown ; This Child I to myself will take; She shall be mine, and I will make A Lady of my own. "Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse : and with me The Girl, in rock and plain, In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, Shall feel an overseeing power To kindle or restrain.
Page 21 - ... coldly The rough river ran — Over the brink of it: Picture it — think of it, Dissolute Man! Lave in it, drink of it, Then, if you can! Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care: Fashion'd so slenderly, Young and so fair!
Page 268 - ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold: Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?" The vision raised its head, And, with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord.
Page 21 - Who was her father? Who was her mother? Had she a sister? Had she a brother? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet than all other?
Page 215 - 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 or forts: The warrior's name would be a name abhorred!
Page 1 - THE shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, Excelsior ! His brow was sad ; his eye beneath, Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, Excelsior!
Page 258 - Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide, In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side...
Page 250 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread : Stitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, Would that its tone could reach the rich ! She sang this