The complete poetical works [&c.].

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第144页 - The heights by great men reached and kept, Were not attained by sudden flight ; But they, while their companions slept, Were toiling upward in the night.
第113页 - 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.
第62页 - Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State ! Sail on, O UNION, strong and great : Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate...
第45页 - 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484页 - If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower as a signal light,— One, if by land, and two, if by sea; And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm, For the country folk to be up and to arm.
第286页 - A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." I remember the black wharves and the slips, And the sea-tides tossing free ; And Spanish sailors with bearded lips. And the beauty and mystery of the ships, And the magic of the sea. And the voice of that wayward song Is singing and saying still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.
第93页 - He wrapped her warm in his seaman's coat, Against the stinging blast ; He cut a rope from a broken spar, And bound her to the mast. " O father ! I hear the church-bells ring, O, say, what may it be?
第92页 - IT was the schooner Hesperus, That sailed the wintry sea; And the skipper had taken his little daughter, To bear him company. Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds, That ope in the month of May. The skipper he stood beside the helm, His pipe was in his mouth, And he watched how the veering flaw did blow The smoke now West, now South.
第49页 - Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine.
第45页 - There is a Reaper, whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between. 'Shall I have nought that is fair?' saith he, 'Have nought but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again.

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