PoemsHoughton, Mifflin, 1890 |
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Agamenticus Apollo Appledore Atropos Auf wiedersehen bard beauty bird blow blue bobolink bore brain breath Clotho cloud dark dead dear deep divine door doubt dream earth Eliab eyes face faith fancy feel feet fire ghosts glow gold grace grew hair half hand hast hath hear heart heaven Jacob's-ladder JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL John Bull keep kind Knott Lachesis laugh life's light lives look Mephistopheles mind mused Nature ne'er neath never night o'er Odin once poet poor raps rhyme roar round saints sang scarce seemed shade shadow shore Skald sleep snow sometimes song soul spin spirits stir sure sweet tears thee there's things thou thought throb thrush tree trip-hammer turn twixt verse vext VINLAND White Island wiedersehen wind wings wise wonder wood woodland enchanted word
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Стр. 55 - All honor and praise to the righthearted bard Who was true to The Voice when such service was hard, Who himself was so free he dared sing for the slave When to look but a protest in silence was brave...
Стр. 51 - 11 grant, if you choose, he has 'em. But he lacks the one merit of kindling enthusiasm ; If he stir you at all, it is just, on my soul, Like being stirred up with the very North Pole. "He is very nice reading in summer, but inter Nos, we don't want extra freezing in winter; Take him up in the depth of July, my advice is, When you feel an Egyptian devotion to ices. But, deduct all you can, there 's enough...
Стр. 3 - Critics, or better (I like, as a thing that the reader's first fancy may strike, an oldfashioned title-page, such as presents a tabular view of the volume's contents), A glance at a few of our Literary progenies (Mrs. Malaprop's word) From the tub of Diogenes...
Стр. 213 - T is thirteen years ; once more I press The turf that silences the lane ; I hear the rustle of her dress, I smell the lilacs, and — ah, yes, I hear, — " Auf wiedersehen! " Sweet piece of bashful maiden art! The English words had seemed too fain, But these — they drew us heart to heart, Yet held us tenderly apart ; She said, — "Auf wiedersehen!
Стр. 38 - There comes Emerson first, whose rich words, every one, Are like gold nails in temples to hang trophies on, Whose prose is grand verse, while his verse, the Lord knows, Is some of it pr No, 'tis not even prose...
Стр. 84 - s Holmes, who is matchless among you for wit ; A Leyden-jar always full-charged, from which flit The electrical tingles of hit after hit ; In long poems 't is painful sometimes, and invites A thought of the way the new Telegraph writes, Which pricks down its little sharp sentences spitefully As if you got more than...
Стр. 72 - Three fifths of him genius and two fifths sheer fudge, Who talks like a book of iambs and pentameters, In a way to make people of common sense damn metres, Who has written some things quite the best of their kind, But the heart somehow seems all squeezed out by the mind...
Стр. 175 - Life is a leaf of paper white Whereon each one of us may write His word or two, and then comes night.
Стр. 189 - I could not sleep for cold, I had fire enough in my brain, And builded, with roofs of gold, My beautiful castles in Spain ! Since then I have toiled day and night, I have money and power good store, But I 'd give all my lamps of silver bright.
Стр. 54 - There is Whittier, whose swelling and vehement heart Strains the strait-breasted drab of the Quaker apart, And reveals the live Man, still supreme and erect, Underneath the bemummying wrappers of sect ; There was ne'er a man born who had more of the swing Of the true lyric bard and all that kind of thing...