Poems of William Cullen BryantT. Y. Crowell, 1893 - Всего страниц: 384 |
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afraid amid autumn beauty beneath BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH birds bloom blossoms blue boughs bower breath bright brook brow Bryant calm CANADA SONG clouds cold Cummington dark death deep didst dreams dwell earth Earth's Children fair fear flowers forest gathered gaze gentle glad glen glittering glorious glory grave green groves hand hear heart heaven hills hour HYMN land leaves light look maid maiden maize Maquon mighty mountain murmur NATHAN HASKELL DOLE night o'er pass PITCAIRN'S ISLAND pleasant poems R. H. Dana rest rills Rizpah rocks round rustling S. F. B. Morse savannas shade shadow shine shore silent skies sleep smile soft song sound spirit spring star stream summer sweet swell tears Thanatopsis thee thine thou art trees vale voice wandering warriors waters waves weep wild WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT wind-flower winds wings woods young youth
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Стр. 30 - Comes a still voice : — yet a few days, and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more In all his course. Nor yet in the cold ground, Where thy pale form was laid with many tears, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again ; And, lost each human trace, surrendering up Thine individual being, shalt thou go To mix forever with the elements, To be a brother to the insensible rock And to the sluggish clod,...
Стр. 30 - 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.
Стр. 285 - Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way?
Стр. 29 - 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.
Стр. 31 - 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.
Стр. 218 - Thou waitest late, and com'st alone, When woods are bare and birds are flown, And frosts and shortening days portend The aged year is near its end. Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye Look through its fringes to the sky; Blue, blue, as if that sky let fall A flower from its cerulean wall...
Стр. 275 - But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood, And the yellow sunflower by the brook in autumn beauty stood, Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men, And the brightness of their smile was gone from upland, glade, and glen, And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home ; When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light...
Стр. 41 - Written on thy works I read The lesson of thy own eternity. Lo! all grow old and die — but see, again, How on the faltering footsteps of decay Youth presses — ever gay and beautiful youth In all its beautiful forms.
Стр. 40 - In music ; thou art in the cooler breath That from the inmost darkness of the place Comes, scarcely felt ; the barky trunks, the ground, The fresh moist ground, are all instinct with thee. Here is continual worship. Nature, here, In the tranquillity that thou dost love, Enjoys thy presence. Noiselessly around, From perch to perch, the solitary bird, Passes ; and yon clear spring, that midst its herbs Wells softly forth, and visits the strong roots Of half the mighty forest, tells no tale Of all the...
Стр. 274 - Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood? Alas ! they all are in their graves, the gentle race of flowers Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours. The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold November rain Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.