The Living Authors of America: 1st serStringer and Townsend, 1850 - 365 頁 |
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第 1 到 5 筆結果,共 36 筆
第 28 頁
... be the will of God , ' returned Tom . These waves , to me , are what the land is to you ; I was born on them , and I have always meant that they should be my grave . ' " But I - I , ' shrieked Dillon , 28 COOPER . JAMES FENIMORE.
... be the will of God , ' returned Tom . These waves , to me , are what the land is to you ; I was born on them , and I have always meant that they should be my grave . ' " But I - I , ' shrieked Dillon , 28 COOPER . JAMES FENIMORE.
第 44 頁
... grave ? " 66 " I ! no , no , I have no son but Hard - Heart , and it is little that an Indian knows of White fashions and usages . Besides , I am his debtor already , seeing it is so little I have done since I have lived in his tribe ...
... grave ? " 66 " I ! no , no , I have no son but Hard - Heart , and it is little that an Indian knows of White fashions and usages . Besides , I am his debtor already , seeing it is so little I have done since I have lived in his tribe ...
第 45 頁
... grave . ' " The old man extended his emaciated hand , and gave the other a squeeze of thanks . " I thought you might be willing to do it , but I was backward in asking the favor , ' he said , ' seeing that you are not of my kin . Put no ...
... grave . ' " The old man extended his emaciated hand , and gave the other a squeeze of thanks . " I thought you might be willing to do it , but I was backward in asking the favor , ' he said , ' seeing that you are not of my kin . Put no ...
第 47 頁
... grave was made beneath the shade of some noble oaks . It has been carefully watched to the present hour by the Pawnees of the Loup , and is often shown to the traveller and the trader as a spot where a just White man sleeps . In due ...
... grave was made beneath the shade of some noble oaks . It has been carefully watched to the present hour by the Pawnees of the Loup , and is often shown to the traveller and the trader as a spot where a just White man sleeps . In due ...
第 56 頁
... grave . " Nine summers had she scarcely seen , The pride of all the vale , And then she sang - she would have been A very nightingale . " Six feet in earth my Emma lay , And yet I loved her more , For so it seemed , than till that day I ...
... grave . " Nine summers had she scarcely seen , The pride of all the vale , And then she sang - she would have been A very nightingale . " Six feet in earth my Emma lay , And yet I loved her more , For so it seemed , than till that day I ...
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Acadian admiration Alnwick Castle American Annabel Lee beauty beneath breath Bryant Byron Cachuca Carmelite character charm Coleridge consider Cooper critic Dana dark death dramatist dream earth elaborate elegant Emerson England English evidence expression fact fair feel force genius George Sand give gondola grave Halleck hand hath heard heart heaven HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW human HYPOLITO intellect JARED SPARKS Kirkland lady land Leigh Hunt light lines living Longfellow look Margaret Fuller mind Miss Fuller monomania nation Natty Bumppo nature never o'er once opinion passion peculiar poem poet poet's poetical poetry Prescott present prose quote Ralph Waldo Emerson reader remarks romance scene seems Shakspeare singular smile soul sound spirit stanza style sure sweet thee things thou thought throw tion true truth verse voice Willis woman word Wordsworth writings
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第 163 頁 - are beating Funeral marches to the grave. ***** " 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!
第 128 頁 - Once upon a midnight dreary, While I pondered weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious Volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, Suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, Rapping at my chamber door. ' 'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, ' Tapping at my chamber door— Only this, and nothing more.
第 197 頁 - 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.
第 357 頁 - His soul was like a star, and dwelt apart! He had a voice whose sound was like the sea, Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free ; So did he travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness, and yet his heart The lowliest duties on itself did lay
第 220 頁 - eye serene The very pulse of the machine; A being breathing thoughtful breath, A traveller between life and death; The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill; A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command: And yet a spirit still, and bright With something of angelic light.
第 230 頁 - His few surviving comrades saw His smile when rang their proud hurrah, And the red field was won: Then saw in death his eyelids close, Calmly, as to a night's repose, Like flowers at set of sun. Bozzaris! with the storied brave, Greece mustered in her glory's time, Rest thee; there is no prouder grave,
第 164 頁 - There is a reaper whose name is Death, And with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded gram at a breath, And the flowers that grow between. * * * * " He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves, It was for the Lord of Paradise' He bound them in his sheaves.
第 156 頁 - Of visitation from the living God, Thought was not, in enjoyment it expired; No thanks he breathed, he proffered no request. Rapt into still communion that transcends The imperfect offices of prayer and praise, His mind was a thanksgiving to the power That made him—it was blessedness and love.
第 130 頁 - Not the least obeisance made he; Not an instant stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, Perched above my chamber door— Perched upon a bust of Pallas Just above my chamber door— Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
第 160 頁 - Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught! Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought, Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought.