Local and National Poets of America: With Biographical Sketches and Choice Selections from Over One Thousand Living American PoetsThomas William Herringshaw American publishers' association, 1890 - Всего страниц: 1036 |
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Стр. 40
... gone ; Gone with its record , dark or fair- For all life's deeds are written there . In silence , too , the hurrying Years Pass outward , one by one ; We almost deem Time's silver sands Are lying idle in our hands- Though blotted here ...
... gone ; Gone with its record , dark or fair- For all life's deeds are written there . In silence , too , the hurrying Years Pass outward , one by one ; We almost deem Time's silver sands Are lying idle in our hands- Though blotted here ...
Стр. 45
... gone For many and many a day ; And oft his frosty breath , at dawn , On Spring's green mantel lay ; And when at last he would have gone , ' tis told , Spring sighed and he returned ; ah , maiden bold . And then she drew from skies so ...
... gone For many and many a day ; And oft his frosty breath , at dawn , On Spring's green mantel lay ; And when at last he would have gone , ' tis told , Spring sighed and he returned ; ah , maiden bold . And then she drew from skies so ...
Стр. 64
... gone ? ..Where shall I find , how may I ever win The counterpart of longings here within ? " Long while I knelt and waited for reply , Until at last a voice broke from the sky : .. First cleanse thy soul , thy thought , oh man from sin ...
... gone ? ..Where shall I find , how may I ever win The counterpart of longings here within ? " Long while I knelt and waited for reply , Until at last a voice broke from the sky : .. First cleanse thy soul , thy thought , oh man from sin ...
Стр. 83
... gone are the sleet and rain ; When the dreary days no longer last , And bright spring comes again , We will shout aloud as we did of yore , All hail fair spring to thee ; Scatter thy flowers the woodlands o'er , Till the air is sweeter ...
... gone are the sleet and rain ; When the dreary days no longer last , And bright spring comes again , We will shout aloud as we did of yore , All hail fair spring to thee ; Scatter thy flowers the woodlands o'er , Till the air is sweeter ...
Стр. 88
... gone by ; --- I bid farewell her gentle lay . " Tis calm once more ; The days of yore Crowd past me with their wondrous store ; And , ere we knew , I wonder who Dwelt on this beauteous Calcasieu ? Perhaps this mound Upon the ground Was ...
... gone by ; --- I bid farewell her gentle lay . " Tis calm once more ; The days of yore Crowd past me with their wondrous store ; And , ere we knew , I wonder who Dwelt on this beauteous Calcasieu ? Perhaps this mound Upon the ground Was ...
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angels Babyland beauty birds bless bloom blue BORN brave breast breath breeze bright brow cheer clouds dark darling dead dear death deep doth dream earth evermore eyes face fair feet flowers forever friends glad gleam glory glow gold golden grace hand happy hath hear heart heaven hills hope hour Iowa kiss lady land life's light lips live LOCAL AND NATIONAL look married morning mother NATIONAL POETS ne'er neath never night nom de plume o'er Ohio Osci pain peace poems have appeared POETS OF AMERICA resides rest rill rose shadows shine shore sigh silent sing skies sleep smile snow soft song sorrow soul stars sweet tears tell thee thine thou thought to-day toil true Twas twill voice waves weary ween whip-poor-will wild winds wings Woman's Exponent youth
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Стр. 194 - AFOOT and light-hearted I take to the open road, Healthy, free, the world before me, The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose. Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune, Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms, Strong and content I travel the open road.
Стр. 66 - Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.
Стр. 43 - Prince thou art, — the grown-up man Only is republican, Let the million-dollared ride! Barefoot, trudging at his side, Thou hast more than he can buy In the reach of ear and eye, — Outward sunshine, inward joy: Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!
Стр. 130 - It was August the third; And quite soft was the skies; Which it might be inferred That Ah Sin was likewise; Yet he played it that day upon William And me in a way I despise.
Стр. 43 - Laughed the brook for my delight Through the day and through the night, Whispering at the garden wall, Talked with, me from fall to fall ; Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond, Mine the walnut slopes beyond, Mine, on bending orchard trees, Apples of Hesperides ! Still as my horizon grew, Larger grew my riches too ; All the world I saw or knew Seemed a complex Chinese toy, Fashioned for a barefoot boy...
Стр. 801 - I stay my haste, I make delays; For what avails this eager pace? I stand amid the eternal ways, And what is mine shall know my face. Asleep, awake, by night or day, The friends I seek are seeking me; No wind can drive my bark astray,. Nor change the tide of destiny. What matter if I stand alone? I wait with joy the coming years ; My heart shall reap where it has sown, And garner up its fruit of tears.
Стр. 66 - That he had a Roman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow. But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here ; But the old three-cornered hat And the breeches, and all that, Are so queer ! And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the tree • In the spring, Let them smile, as I do now, At the old forsaken bough Where I cling.
Стр. 98 - And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean To be some happy creature's palace; The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined being o'errun With the deluge of summer it receives...
Стр. 98 - The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined being o'errun With the deluge of summer it receives; His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings; He sings to the wide world and she to her nest,— In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best?
Стр. 65 - THE LAST LEAF I SAw him once before, As he passed by the door; And again The pavement stones resound, As he totters o'er the ground With his cane. They say that in his prime, Ere the pruning-knife of Time Cut him down, Not a better man was found By the Crier on his round Through the town. But now he walks the streets, And he looks at all he meets Sad and wan ; And he shakes his feeble head. That it seems as if he said,