City PoemsTicknor and Fields, 1857 - Всего страниц: 138 |
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50 cents 63 cents afar beauty beneath bliss blue breath burning burst CITY POEMS Cloth cloud CLOVERNOOK crimson dark dead dead of night death desert dream dwell eyes face fire flash flowers fluttering girls gleamed gloom gold golden GOLDEN LEGEND Grace Greenwood grave green hand happy hear heard heart heaven hills hour kiss lark laughed light lips lonely look loud MERRIE ENGLAND Methought mighty Mong morning mother murmured ne'er neath never night o'er pain pale POEMS POETICAL Price 50 Price 63 Price 75 cents rain REJECTED ADDRESSES rills rose round rude shades shore showers silence sing sleep smile smoke song sorrow soul stood strange stream streets summer sunny sunshine sweet TANGLEWOOD TALES tears thee Thou touch trembling tween TWICE-TOLD TALES voice wandering waves weary weep wild wind wind-flower
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Стр. 43 - From terrace proud to alley base 1 know thee as my mother's face. When sunset bathes thee in his gold, In wreaths of bronze thy sides are rolled, Thy smoke is dusky fire; And, from the glory round thee poured, A sunbeam like an angel's sword Shivers upon a spire. Thus have I watched thee, Terror! Dream! While the blue Night crept up the stream, wv B.
Стр. 24 - Mid the gorgeous storms of music — in the mellow organ-calms, 'Mid the upward streaming prayers, and the rich and solemn psalms, I stood careless, Barbara. My heart was otherwhere While the organ shook the air, And the priest, with outspread hands, blessed the people with a prayer; But, when rising to go homeward, with a mild and saint-like shine Gleamed a face of airy beauty with its heavenly eyes on mine — Gleamed and vanished in a moment — O that face was surely thine Out of heaven, Barbara!
Стр. 114 - Tis our doom To sit unhappy in the round of self. From our necessities of love arise Our keenest heartaches and our miseries. When death and change are flying in the sky, Our spirits tremble like a nest of doves, Beneath the falcon's wing. Each time we love, We turn a nearer and a broader mark To that keen archer, Sorrow, and he strikes. O that the heart could, like a housewife, sit By its own fire, and let the world go by Unheeded as the stream before the door! Love cannot look upon a dingy cloud,...
Стр. 25 - I've changed; Wild and far my heart has ranged, And many sins and errors now have been on me avenged; But to you I have been faithful, whatsoever good I...
Стр. 142 - LOWELL'S WRITINGS. COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS. Revised, with Additions. In two volumes, 16mo. Cloth. Price $1.50. SIR LAUNFAL. New Edition. Price 25 cents. THE BIGLOW PAPERS. A New Edition. Price 63 cents EDWIN P. WHIPPLE'S WRITINGS. ESSAYS AND REVIEWS. 2 Vols. Price $2.00. LECTURES ON SUBJECTS CONNECTED WITH LITERATURE AND LIFE. Price 63 cents.
Стр. 141 - NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE'S WRITINGS. TWICE-TOLD TALES. Two volumes. Price $1.50. THE SCARLET LETTER. Price 75 cents. THE HOUSE OF THE SEVEN GABLES. Price $1.00. THE SNOW IMAGE, AND OTHER TWICE-TOLD TALES, Price 75 cents. THE BLITHEDALE ROMANCE. Price 75 cents.
Стр. 95 - THE morn rose blue and glorious o'er the world; The steamer left the black and oozy wharves, And floated down between dark ranks of masts. We heard the swarming streets, the noisy mills; Saw sooty foundries full of glare and gloom, Great bellied chimneys tipped by tongues of flame Quiver in smoky heat. We slowly passed Loud building-yards, where every slip contained A mighty vessel with a hundred men Battering its iron sides. A cheer ! a ship In a gay flutter of innumerous flags Slid gaily to her...
Стр. 25 - I could not drive away the thought that you were lingering there. 0 many and many a winter night I sat when you were gone, My worn face buried in my hands, beside the fire alone. Within the dripping churchyard, the rain plashing on your stone, You were sleeping, Barbara. 'Mong angels, do you think Of the precious golden link I clasped around your happy arm while sitting by yon brink?
Стр. 37 - This tangled skein is in the hands of One Who sees the end from the beginning : He Shall yet unravel all. Our stream of talk Here split in petty rills, which ran to waste And sank in silence. When that swallows