American Classics for Seventh and Eighth Grade Reading: With Biographical Sketches, Portraits and Suggestions for StudyHoughton Mifflin, 1905 - 437 páginas |
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Página 31
... leaves of the pond - lilies which lie on the surface . This place was held in great awe by the Indians , insomuch that the boldest hunter would not pursue his game within its pre- cincts . Once upon a time , however , a hunter , who had ...
... leaves of the pond - lilies which lie on the surface . This place was held in great awe by the Indians , insomuch that the boldest hunter would not pursue his game within its pre- cincts . Once upon a time , however , a hunter , who had ...
Página 37
... leaves of old copy- books . It was most ingeniously secured at vacant hours , by a withe twisted in the handle of the door , and stakes set against the window shutters ; so that though a thief might get in with perfect ease , he would ...
... leaves of old copy- books . It was most ingeniously secured at vacant hours , by a withe twisted in the handle of the door , and stakes set against the window shutters ; so that though a thief might get in with perfect ease , he would ...
Página 81
... leaves the student free to concentrate his attention upon the writings rather than on Hawthorne , in the passage quoted above , speaks of himself as one " who has been burrowing , to his utmost ability , into the depths of our common ...
... leaves the student free to concentrate his attention upon the writings rather than on Hawthorne , in the passage quoted above , speaks of himself as one " who has been burrowing , to his utmost ability , into the depths of our common ...
Página 105
... leaves , looked lovingly at the Great Stone Face . " Good evening , " said the poet . travelier a night's lodging ? " 66 “ Can you give a Willingly , " answered Ernest ; and then he added , smiling , " methinks I never saw the Great ...
... leaves , looked lovingly at the Great Stone Face . " Good evening , " said the poet . travelier a night's lodging ? " 66 “ Can you give a Willingly , " answered Ernest ; and then he added , smiling , " methinks I never saw the Great ...
Página 113
... , and the windows rattling as with a mighty blast , I could not rest again , till look- ing forth , I saw how bright the stars were , and that every leaf in the garden was motionless . Never was MY VISIT TO NIAGARA . 113.
... , and the windows rattling as with a mighty blast , I could not rest again , till look- ing forth , I saw how bright the stars were , and that every leaf in the garden was motionless . Never was MY VISIT TO NIAGARA . 113.
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Términos y frases comunes
Acadian American ANNABEL LEE Annapolis River Basil bear beauty behold bells BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH bird character church dark death deciduous door Emerson England English Ernest Evangeline eyes farmer father forest French friends Gabriel gleamed Grand-Pré hand head heard heart heaven Henry hill House of Burgesses Ichabod Ichabod Crane Indian Israfel labor land light literary literature lived looked maiden meadows morning mountain nature neighboring never Nevermore night Nova Scotia o'er passed pine Poe's poem poet poetry prairies priest published Quoth the Raven RALPH WALDO EMERSON Raven Rip Van Winkle river rose round seemed shadow shore side silence Sir Launfal Sleepy Hollow smile song sorrow soul sound speech spirit Stone Face stood story stream sweet thee thou thought tion tonian tree trout valley village Virginia voice volume Washington wind winter wonder woods words
Pasajes populares
Página 194 - 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.
Página 362 - All alone, And who tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone — They are neither man nor woman — They are neither brute nor human — They are Ghouls: And their king it is who tolls; And he rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls A paean from the bells!
Página 175 - 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.
Página 352 - Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore, Nameless here for evermore.
Página 159 - Every clod feels a stir of might, An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers.
Página 357 - This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er She shall press, ah, nevermore ! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch...
Página 176 - Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there : And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep— the dead reign there alone.
Página 129 - Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, Nor looks to see the breaking day Across the mournful marbles play! Who hath not learned, in hours of faith, The truth to flesh and sense unknown, That Life is ever lord of Death, And Love can never lose its own!
Página 194 - NAUTILUS This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, Sails the unshadowed main, — The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings, And coral reefs lie bare, Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.
Página 26 - Rip looked and beheld a precise counterpart of himself as he went up the mountain, apparently as lazy and certainly as ragged. The poor fellow was now completely confounded. He doubted his own identity, and whether he was himself or another man. In the midst of his bewilderment, the man in the cocked hat demanded who he was, and what was his name. "God knows," exclaimed he, at his wit's end; "I'm not myself.