Poets' Homes: Pen and Pencil Sketches of American Poets and Their HomesD. Lothrop, 1877 - Всего страниц: 286 |
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Poets' Homes: Pen and Pencil Sketches of American Poets and Their Homes Richard Henry Stoddard Недоступно для просмотра - 2015 |
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Aldrich Alstead American poet Atlantic Monthly Baby Bell Barstow Bayard Taylor beautiful better bird born Boston called Cambridge Cedarcroft Celia Thaxter charming child cottage Dana dear door dream early editor Edmund Clarence Stedman England eyes face father Fawcett flowers friends green heart hills horse Howells Kennett Square light literary lived Longfellow look Lowell Magazine Mattapoisett Merrimac miles morning mother N. P. Willis never newspaper night parlor passed Piatt picture pleasant Plum Island poems poet poet's poetry prose published Richard Henry Richard Henry Dana Richard Henry Stoddard river rocks shadow shore sketch song Spofford Stedman Stoddard story summer sweet tell thought town trees verse volume W. D. HOWELLS waters waves Whitney Whittier Wide Awake wild winds woods writing written wrote York young
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Стр. 92 - Up spoke our own little Mabel, Saying, " Father, who makes it snow?" And I told of the good All-father Who cares for us here below. Again I looked at the snow-fall, And thought of the leaden sky That arched o'er our first great sorrow, When that mound was heaped so high. I remembered the gradual patience That fell from that cloud like snow, Flake by flake, healing and hiding The scar of our deep-plunged woe.
Стр. 244 - My driftwood fire will burn so bright! To what warm shelter canst thou fly? I do not fear for thee, though wroth The tempest rushes through the...
Стр. 264 - Freddy ; and all the snow ; And the sheep will scamper into the fold When the North begins to blow. " ' Which is the Wind that brings the heat ? The South Wind, Katy ; and corn will grow, And peaches redden for you to eat, When the South begins to blow.
Стр. 8 - I have a garden of my own, But so with roses overgrown, And lilies, that you would it guess To be a little wilderness ; And all the springtime of the year It only loved to be there. Among the beds of lilies, I Have sought it oft, where it should lie, Yet could not till itself would rise, Find it, although before mine eyes ; For, in the flaxen lilies' shade, It like a bank of lilies laid.
Стр. 181 - The treasures of the deep are not so precious As are the concealed comforts of a man Lock'd up in woman's love. I scent the air Of blessings, when I come but near the house, What a delicious breath marriage sends forth — The violet bed's not sweeter ! MlDDLETON.
Стр. 92 - Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her; And she, kissing back, could not know That my kiss was given to her sister, Folded close under deepening snow.
Стр. 91 - THE snow had begun in the gloaming, And busily all the night Had been heaping field and highway With a silence deep and white. Every pine and fir and hemlock Wore ermine too dear for an earl, And the poorest twig on the elm-tree Was ridged inch deep with pearl.
Стр. 128 - THE MYSTERIES. ONCE on my mother's breast, a child, I crept, Holding my breath ; There, safe and sad, lay shuddering, and wept At the dark mystery of Death. Weary and weak, and worn with all unrest, Spent with the strife, — O mother, let me weep upon thy breast At the sad mystery of Life ! THE BATTLE IN THE CLOUDS.
Стр. 87 - Life,' he said; And ere I answered, passing out of sight, On his celestial embassy he sped. 'Twas at thy door, O friend! and not at mine, The angel with the amaranthine wreath, Pausing, descended, and with voice divine, Whispered a word that had a sound like Death. Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom, A shadow on those features fair and thin; And softly, from that hushed and darkened room, Two angels issued, where but one went in.
Стр. 243 - The wild waves reach their hands for it, The wild wind raves, the tide runs high, As up and down the beach we flit — One little Sandpiper and I.