A Hand-book of English Literature: Intended for the Use of High Schools, as Well as a Companion and Guide for Private Students, and for General Readers. American AuthorsLee and Shepard, 1889 - 608 Seiten |
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Seite xi
... hours , circles the earth daily with one continuous and unbroken strain of the martial airs of England . " But where in that majestic round will you find any English literature in any colony that is still a colony , which does not ...
... hours , circles the earth daily with one continuous and unbroken strain of the martial airs of England . " But where in that majestic round will you find any English literature in any colony that is still a colony , which does not ...
Seite 4
... hours after dinner , what I dined upon . This has been a convenience to me in travelling , where my companions have been sometimes very unhappy for want of a suita- ble gratification of their more delicate , because better instructed ...
... hours after dinner , what I dined upon . This has been a convenience to me in travelling , where my companions have been sometimes very unhappy for want of a suita- ble gratification of their more delicate , because better instructed ...
Seite 12
... hour have formed alliances with foreign states . We should have mastered Quebec , and been in possession of Canada . You will , perhaps , wonder how such a declaration would have influenced our affairs in Canada ; but if I could write ...
... hour have formed alliances with foreign states . We should have mastered Quebec , and been in possession of Canada . You will , perhaps , wonder how such a declaration would have influenced our affairs in Canada ; but if I could write ...
Seite 16
... correspondence became necessarily extensive , and , with jour- nalizing his agricultural proceedings , occupied most of his leisure hours within doors . On the whole , his character was , in its 16 HAND - BOOK OF AMERICAN AUTHORS .
... correspondence became necessarily extensive , and , with jour- nalizing his agricultural proceedings , occupied most of his leisure hours within doors . On the whole , his character was , in its 16 HAND - BOOK OF AMERICAN AUTHORS .
Seite 34
... hours in summer , provided that Congress will order the postmaster - general to make a contract with them to carry it three times a week . Even love , you know , grows faint if unrequited . Here we sit in darkness ; and instead of ...
... hours in summer , provided that Congress will order the postmaster - general to make a contract with them to carry it three times a week . Even love , you know , grows faint if unrequited . Here we sit in darkness ; and instead of ...
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Ali Pacha American appeared Atlantic Monthly beauty beneath birds born Boston breath bright character cloud dark David Swan deep delight dream Ducklow earth England entitled eyes father feeling feet fire flowers forever genius give golden green hand Harvard College heart heaven hills hour human Iliad JAMES THOMAS FIELDS JOHN Josiah Quincy labor land light literary literature living look Margaret Fuller meerschaum mind Miscellaneous Writer moral morning mountains nation nature never Nevermore night North American Review o'er passed poems Poet poetry published river round scene seemed Shakespeare shore silent song soul sound spirit story style summer sweet taste thee Theologian things thou thought tion trees voice volume waves whole wild WILLIAM wind woods words Yale College young youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 134 - 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 healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness ere he is aware.
Seite 357 - The hills Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun; the vales Stretching in pensive quietness between; The venerable woods, rivers that move In majesty, and the complaining 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.
Seite 264 - 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 seem. 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.
Seite 136 - The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one, as before, will chase His favorite phantom ; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come And make their bed with thee.
Seite 345 - Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee— by these angels he hath sent thee Respite— respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!
Seite 590 - On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses?
Seite 263 - Were half the power, that fills the world with terror, Were half the wealth, bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals nor forts: The warrior's name would be a name abhorred!
Seite 448 - MINE eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord : He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored ; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword ; His truth is marching on.
Seite 135 - 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.
Seite 136 - 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.