The Courtship of Miles Standish: And Other PoemsUniversity Publishing, 1901 - 142页 |
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共有 19 个结果,这是第 6-10 个
第70页
... rise , As when the Northern skies Gleam in December ; And , like the water's flow Under December's snow , Came a dull voice of woe From the heart's chamber . " I was a Viking old ! My deeds , though manifold , No Skald in song has told ...
... rise , As when the Northern skies Gleam in December ; And , like the water's flow Under December's snow , Came a dull voice of woe From the heart's chamber . " I was a Viking old ! My deeds , though manifold , No Skald in song has told ...
第78页
... rise . Such was the wreck of the Hesperus , In the midnight and the snow ! Christ save us all from a death like this , On the reef of Norman's Woe ! THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH . UNDER a spreading chestnut tree The village smithy stands ...
... rise . Such was the wreck of the Hesperus , In the midnight and the snow ! Christ save us all from a death like this , On the reef of Norman's Woe ! THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH . UNDER a spreading chestnut tree The village smithy stands ...
第84页
... rise the burnished arms ; But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing Startles the villages with strange alarms . Ah ! what a sound will rise , how wild and dreary , When the death - angel touches those swift keys ! What loud lament ...
... rise the burnished arms ; But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing Startles the villages with strange alarms . Ah ! what a sound will rise , how wild and dreary , When the death - angel touches those swift keys ! What loud lament ...
第86页
... Rise the blue Franconian mountains , Nuremberg , the ancient , stands , Quaint old town of toil and traffic , quaint old town of art and song , Memories haunt thy pointed gables , like the rooks that round them throng : Memories of the ...
... Rise the blue Franconian mountains , Nuremberg , the ancient , stands , Quaint old town of toil and traffic , quaint old town of art and song , Memories haunt thy pointed gables , like the rooks that round them throng : Memories of the ...
第87页
... rising through the painted air . Here , when Art was still religion , with a simple , reverent heart , Lived and labored Albrecht Dürer , the Evangelist of Art ; Hence in silence and in sorrow , toiling still with busy hand , Like an ...
... rising through the painted air . Here , when Art was still religion , with a simple , reverent heart , Lived and labored Albrecht Dürer , the Evangelist of Art ; Hence in silence and in sorrow , toiling still with busy hand , Like an ...
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常见术语和短语
accent Albrecht Dürer Angels beautiful beheld Belfry of Bruges Bible breath Bruges Cæsar cæsura Captain of Plymouth Captain Standish church cilla colony Courtship of Miles dark dead death England English Evangeline Excelsior eyes feeling feet Flanders flowers forest Forever-never friendship gleam grave gray Guy de Dampierre hand heard heart HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW hexameter humor Humphrey Gilbert Indian John Alden Julius Cæsar land laugh light living long thoughts Longfellow look loud matchlock Mayflower meter Miles Standish mist Never-forever night o'er ocean pause Pecksuot Pilgrims Plym Plymouth Plantation poem poet poetry prayer Priscilla Priscilla Mullens Puritan rain roar rock Rose sail Sandalphon sang shadows ship silent snow soldier song sound spake stood story strong sweet Thereupon answered thoughts of youth unaccented syllable vessel village voice wave wife wild William Brewster wind wind's Winslow words youth are long
热门引用章节
第100页 - Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer. Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice. And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares that infest the day Shall fold their tents like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.
第76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 ? " " Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast ! " — And he steered for the open sea.
第101页 - Half-way up the stairs it stands, And points and beckons with its hands From its case of massive oak, Like a monk, who, under his cloak, Crosses himself, and sighs, alas ! With sorrowful voice to all who pass, — " Forever — never ! Never — forever !
第130页 - MY LOST YOUTH. OFTEN I think of the beautiful town That is seated by the sea ; Often in thought go up and down The pleasant streets of that dear- old town, And my youth comes back to me. And a verse of a Lapland song Is haunting my memory still : " A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.
第70页 - Oft to his frozen lair Tracked I the grisly bear, While from my path the hare Fled like a shadow; • Oft through the forest dark Followed the were-wolf 's bark, Until the soaring lark Sang from the meadow.
第122页 - The mighty pyramids of stone That wedge-like cleave the desert airs, When nearer seen, and better known, Are but gigantic flights of stairs. The distant mountains, that uprear Their solid bastions to the skies, Are crossed by pathways, that appear As we to higher levels rise. 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81页 - At break of day, as heavenward The pious monks of Saint Bernard Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, A voice cried through the startled air Excelsior ! A traveller, by the faithful hound, Half-buried in the snow was found, Still grasping in his hand of ice That banner with the strange device Excelsior ! There in the twilight cold and gray, Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay, And from the sky, serene and far, A voice fell, like a falling star, Excelsior ! POEMS ON SLAVERY.
第119页 - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair!
第61页 - TELL me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream ! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal ; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
第62页 - I have naught that is fair ?" saith he ; "Have naught but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me I will give them all back again." 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.