The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth LongfellowHoughton, Mifflin and Company, 1883 - 492 Seiten |
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Seite 8
... listen , and it cheers me long . HYMN OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS OF BETHLEHEM . AT THE CONSECRATION OF PULASKI'S BANNER . WHEN the dying flame of day Through the chancel shot its ray , Far the glimmering tapers shed Faint light on the cowled ...
... listen , and it cheers me long . HYMN OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS OF BETHLEHEM . AT THE CONSECRATION OF PULASKI'S BANNER . WHEN the dying flame of day Through the chancel shot its ray , Far the glimmering tapers shed Faint light on the cowled ...
Seite 22
... listen may , God bless them every one ! I dart away , in the bright blue day , And the golden fields of the sun . " Thus do I sing my weary song , Wherever the four winds blow ; And this same song , my whole life long , Neither Poet nor ...
... listen may , God bless them every one ! I dart away , in the bright blue day , And the golden fields of the sun . " Thus do I sing my weary song , Wherever the four winds blow ; And this same song , my whole life long , Neither Poet nor ...
Seite 50
... listen , for my heart is full ; so full That I must speak . Нур . Alas ! that heart of thine Is like a scene in the old play ; the cur- tain Rises to solemn music , and lo ! enter The eleven thousand virgins of Cologne ! Vict . Nay ...
... listen , for my heart is full ; so full That I must speak . Нур . Alas ! that heart of thine Is like a scene in the old play ; the cur- tain Rises to solemn music , and lo ! enter The eleven thousand virgins of Cologne ! Vict . Nay ...
Seite 51
... listen to my tale . Dost thou re- member The Gypsy girl we saw at Córdova Dance the Romalis in the market - place ? Hyp . Thou meanest Preciosa . Vict . Ay , the same . Thou knowest how her image haunted me Long after we returned to ...
... listen to my tale . Dost thou re- member The Gypsy girl we saw at Córdova Dance the Romalis in the market - place ? Hyp . Thou meanest Preciosa . Vict . Ay , the same . Thou knowest how her image haunted me Long after we returned to ...
Seite 59
... Listen to me . -- I come here as your friend , I am your friend , And by a single word can put a stop To all those idle tales , and make your name Spotless as lilies are . Here on my knees , Fair Preciosa ! on my knees I swear , I love ...
... Listen to me . -- I come here as your friend , I am your friend , And by a single word can put a stop To all those idle tales , and make your name Spotless as lilies are . Here on my knees , Fair Preciosa ! on my knees I swear , I love ...
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Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Acadian answered arrows beautiful behold beneath birds breath brooklet Chibiabos Chispa cloud cried Dacotahs dark dead death door dreams earth Edenhall Eginhard EPIMETHEUS Evangeline eyes face fair father feet fire forest gazed Gitche Gumee gleam golden Grand-Pré guests Gypsy hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven HEPHÆSTUS Hiawatha Kenabeek King Olaf Kwasind land Lara Laughing Water leaves light listen look loud maiden meadow MICHAEL ANGELO Miles Standish Minnehaha Mondamin moon morning Mudjekeewis night o'er old Nokomis Osseo passed Pau-Puk-Keewis pray Prec river rose round rushing sails sang shadow shining ships Sigrid the Haughty silent singing sleep smile snow song Song of Hiawatha sorrow soul sound spake stars stood sunshine sweet tale Tharaw thee thou art thought unto Vict village voice wait walls wampum wandered waves whispered wigwam wild wind words youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 36 - Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught ! Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought ; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought ! ENDYMION.
Seite 2 - 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 79 - Down the dark future, through long generations, The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease ; And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, I hear once more the voice of Christ say, " Peace ! " Peace ! and no longer from its brazen portals The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies ! But beautiful as songs of the immortals, The holy melodies of love arise.
Seite 212 - 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. Standing on what too long we bore With shoulders bent and downcast eyes, We may discern — unseen before A path to higher destinies. Nor deem the irrevocable Past, As wholly wasted, wholly vain, If, rising on its wrecks, at last To something nobler we attain.
Seite 219 - I remember the gleams and glooms that dart Across the school-boy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, That in part are prophecies, and in part Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.
Seite 25 - SPEAK ! speak ! thou fearful guest ! Who, with thy hollow breast Still in rude armor drest, Comest to daunt me ! Wrapt not in Eastern balms, But with thy fleshless palms Stretched, as if asking alms. Why dost thou haunt me ? " Then, from those cavernous eyes Pale flashes seemed to 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...
Seite 40 - and rest Thy weary head upon this breast!" A tear stood in his bright blue eye, But still he answered, with a sigh, Excelsior! "Beware the pine-tree's withered branch! Beware the awful avalanche!
Seite 78 - THIS is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling, Like a huge organ, 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 and dismal Miserere Will mingle with their awful symphonies...
Seite 162 - As unto the bow the cord is, So unto the man is woman : Though she bends him, she obeys him, Though she draws him, yet she follows, Useless each without the other!
Seite 236 - Of the lonely belfry and the dead; For suddenly all his thoughts are bent On a shadowy something far away, Where the river widens to meet the bay— A line of black that bends and floats On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.