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Annabel Lee apple-tree Babie Bell beauty bells bend beneath bird bless blue Bluebeard bosom brave breast breath breeze bright brow burning charm cloud cold courser dark dead death deep dream earth echo fair fairy floating flowers gaze gleam glory glow golden grave green hand hast hath hear heart heaven Helon hill holy hour John MacBride Kathie Morris land leaves light lips live lonely look lyre morning never Nevermore night o'er pale passed prayer pride proud Quoth the Raven rapture roll round shade shadows shine shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring star-spangled banner stars stream sweet swell tears tempest thee thine thou art thought throne thundering bands toil tower tread tree Twas twill voice water-sprites wave weary WHIP-POOR-WILL wild wind wings witch-hazel youth
第84页 - ANATOPSIS. ^T*O him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her 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280页 - When the hours of Day are numbered, And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight...
第86页 - The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above them — ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems ; in the darkling .wood, Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down, And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And supplication.
第253页 - HEAR the sledges with the bells, Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
第63页 - Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home ; A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. Home ! home ! sweet, sweet home ! There's no place like home...
第94页 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
第86页 - 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, that moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls 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 About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
第294页 - Far in the Northern Land, By the wild Baltic's strand, I, with my childish hand, Tamed the gerfalcon ; And, with my skates fast-bound, Skimmed the half-frozen Sound, That the poor whimpering hound Trembled to walk on.