The Birthday Book of American Poets

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Almira Leach Hayward
James R. Osgood, 1880 - Всего страниц: 277
 

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Стр. 199 - The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread...
Стр. 186 - For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: "It might have been...
Стр. 1 - Unwarmed by any sunset light The gray day darkened into night, A night made hoary with the swarm And whirl-dance of the blinding storm, As zigzag, wavering to and fro, Crossed and recrossed the winged snow; And ere the early bedtime came The white drift piled the window-frame, And through the glass the clothes-line posts Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts.
Стр. 30 - Nothing useless is, or low ; Each thing in its place is best ; And what seems but idle show Strengthens and supports the rest...
Стр. 221 - Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. The sled and traveler stopped, the courier's feet Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
Стр. 204 - Past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, And the days are dark and dreary. Be still, sad heart ! and cease repining ; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining ; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.
Стр. 124 - 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.
Стр. 48 - Nor knowest thou what argument Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. All are needed by each one; Nothing is fair or good alone.
Стр. 150 - Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time — Footprints that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing may take heart again.
Стр. 64 - Were a star quenched on high, For ages would its light, Still travelling downward from the sky, Shine on our mortal sight. So when a great man dies, For years beyond our ken The light he leaves behind him lies Upon the paths of men.

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