PoemsCarey and Hart, 1847 - 376 pages |
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Page 33
... brooks That make the meadows green ; and , poured round all , Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste , - Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man . The golden sun , The planets , all the infinite host of heaven , 333 ...
... brooks That make the meadows green ; and , poured round all , Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste , - Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man . The golden sun , The planets , all the infinite host of heaven , 333 ...
Page 39
... brook , and their dark roots , With all their earth upon them , twisting high , Breathe fixed tranquillity . The rivulet Sends forth glad sounds , and tripping o'er its bed Of pebbly sands , or leaping down the rocks , Seems , with ...
... brook , and their dark roots , With all their earth upon them , twisting high , Breathe fixed tranquillity . The rivulet Sends forth glad sounds , and tripping o'er its bed Of pebbly sands , or leaping down the rocks , Seems , with ...
Page 46
... brooks , and soft caress Of the fresh sylvan air , made me forget The thoughts that broke my peace , and I began To gather simples by the fountain's brink , And lose myself in day - dreams . While I stood In nature's loneliness , I was ...
... brooks , and soft caress Of the fresh sylvan air , made me forget The thoughts that broke my peace , and I began To gather simples by the fountain's brink , And lose myself in day - dreams . While I stood In nature's loneliness , I was ...
Page 47
... brook , Bordered with sparkling frost - work , was as gay As with its fringe of summer flowers . Afar , The village with its spires , the path of streams , And dim receding valleys , hid before By interposing trees , lay visible Through ...
... brook , Bordered with sparkling frost - work , was as gay As with its fringe of summer flowers . Afar , The village with its spires , the path of streams , And dim receding valleys , hid before By interposing trees , lay visible Through ...
Page 60
... And well - fought wars ; green sod and silver brook Took the first stain of blood ; before thy face The warrior generations came and passed , And glory was laid up for many an age to last . A WALK AT SUNSET . 61 Now they are gone 60 POEMS .
... And well - fought wars ; green sod and silver brook Took the first stain of blood ; before thy face The warrior generations came and passed , And glory was laid up for many an age to last . A WALK AT SUNSET . 61 Now they are gone 60 POEMS .
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Common terms and phrases
amid beauty behold beneath bird bloom blossoms blue boughs breath bright brook brow BURIAL-PLACE calm chipping sparrow clouds dark day-dawn dead death deep deer dwell earth ENGRAVED eyes fair flowers forest gathered gaze gentle glad glen glide glorious glory grass grave Greece green GREEN MOUNTAIN BOYS GREEN RIVER groves gushing hand hear heart heaven hills hour HUMPHRYS HYMN Indian insect wings land leaves light look lovers walk maid maiden maize Maquon mighty mighty heart morning murmur night o'er pass PITCAIRN'S ISLAND pleasant rill rivulet Rizpah rocks round savannas shade shine shore sight silent skies sleep smile soft song sound spirit spring stream summer sweet swell tears tempest thee thine thou art thou dost thou hast Thou shalt trees tribes tulip-tree vale voice wandering watch waters weep wild William Cullen Bryant wind wind-flower woods youth
Popular passages
Page 37 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way...
Page 29 - Yet a few days, and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground, Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again...
Page 31 - 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.
Page 28 - To 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 gentle sympathy that steals away Their sharpness ere he is aware.
Page 303 - For with thy side shall dwell, at last, The victory of endurance born. Truth; crushed to earth, shall rise again ; The eternal years of God are hers ; But Error, wounded, writhes in pain, And dies among his worshippers. Yea, though thou lie upon the dust, When they who helped thee flee in fear. Die full of hope and manly trust, Like those who fell in battle here. Another hand thy sword shall wield, Another hand the standard wave, Till from the trumpet's mouth is pealed The blast of triumph o'er thy...
Page 136 - There, through the long, long summer hours, The golden light should lie, And thick young herbs and groups of flowers Stand in their beauty by. The oriole should build and tell His love-tale, close beside my cell ; The idle butterfly Should rest him there, and there be heard The housewife bee and humming bird.
Page 130 - God ! when thou Dost scare the world with tempests, set on fire The heavens with falling thunderbolts, or fill With all the waters of the firmament The swift dark whirlwind that uproots...
Page 200 - I would that thus, when I shall see The hour of death draw near to me, Hope, blossoming within my heart, May look to heaven as I depart.
Page 194 - Love, that midst grief began, And grew with years, and faltered not in death. Full many a mighty name Lurks in thy depths, unuttered, unrevered ; With thee are silent fame, Forgotten arts, and wisdom disappeared.
Page 30 - Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there ! And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep — the dead reign there alone.