Poems

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Bogue, 1856 - Всего страниц: 764
 

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Стр. 285 - There is no Death ! what seems so is transition : This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death.
Стр. 68 - TELL me not, in mournful numbers, " Life is but an empty dream ! " For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal ; " Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Стр. 145 - Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds, That ope in the month of May. The skipper he stood beside the helm, His pipe was in his mouth, And he watched how the veering flaw did blow The smoke now West, now South. Then up and spake an old Sailor, Had sailed the Spanish Main, "I pray thee, put into yonder port, For I fear a hurricane. "Last night, the moon had a golden ring, And to-night no moon we see!
Стр. 3 - THIS is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
Стр. 245 - From that chamber, clothed in white, The bride came forth on her wedding night ; There, in that silent room below, The dead lay in his shroud of snow ; And in the hush that followed the prayer, Was heard the old clock on the stair, — " Forever — never ! Never — forever...
Стр. 286 - We will be patient, and assuage the feeling We may not wholly stay ; By silence sanctifying, not concealing, The grief that must have way.
Стр. 209 - Were half the power, that fills the world with terror, Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals or forts: The warrior's name would be a name abhorred!
Стр. 235 - Read from some humbler poet, Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the eyelids start ; Who, through long days of labor. And nights devoid of ease. Still heard in his soul the music Of wonderful melodies. Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer.
Стр. 284 - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there ! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended But has one vacant chair...
Стр. 5 - West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards and cornfields Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain, and away to the northward Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on the mountains Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty Atlantic Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their station descended. There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the Acadian village. Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak and of chestnut, Such as the peasants of Normandy built...

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