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Seite 467 - Dark lowers the tempest overhead, The roaring torrent Is deep and wide!" And loud that clarion voice replied, Excelsior ! "O stay," the maiden said, "and rest Thy weary head upon this breast!
Seite 467 - The shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, Excelsior ! His brow was sad ; his eye beneath, Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, Excelsior ! In happy homes he saw the light Of household fires gleam warm and bright; Above, the spectral glaciers shone, And from his lips escaped a groan, Excelsior ! "Try not the Pass!
Seite 319 - And, behold, there was a great earthquake: for the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it. His countenance was like lightning, and his raiment white as snow: And for fear of him the keepers did shake, and became as dead men.
Seite 470 - There is no Death ! What seems so is transition. This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian. Whose portal we call Death.
Seite 464 - From remote and sunless suburbs, came they to the friendly guild, Building nests in Fame's great temple, as in spouts the swallows build. As the weaver plied the shuttle, wove he too the mystic rhyme, And the smith his iron measures hammered to the anvil's chime; Thanking God, whose boundless wisdom makes the flowers of poesy bloom In the forge's dust and cinders, in the tissues of the loom.
Seite 470 - She is not dead — the child of our affection — But gone unto that school Where she no longer needs our poor protection, And Christ himself doth rule. In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, By guardian angels led, Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, She lives, whom we call dead.
Seite 464 - Fairer seems the ancient city, and the sunshine seems more fair, That he once has trod its pavement, that he once has breathed its air!
Seite 313 - And Lot lifted up his eyes, and beheld all the plain of Jordan, that it was well watered every where, before the LORD destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah, even as the garden of the LORD, like the land of Egypt, as thou comest unto Zoar.
Seite 463 - Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.
Seite 470 - Day after day we think what she is doing In those bright realms of air; Year after year, her tender steps pursuing. Behold her grown more fair. Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken The bond which nature gives. Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken. May reach her where she lives.