Famous Single and Fugitive Poems

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Rossiter Johnson
H. Holt, 1890 - 364 páginas

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Página 96 - Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave: And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave...
Página 78 - No : — men, high-minded men, With powers as far above dull brutes endued In forest, brake, or den, As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude, — Men who their duties know, But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain, Prevent the long-aimed blow, And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain ; These constitute a State; 3 And sovereign law, that State's collected will, O'er thrones and globes elate Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill.
Página 91 - Mysterious Night ! when our first Parent knew Thee from report divine, and heard thy name, Did he not tremble for this lovely frame, This glorious canopy of light and blue ? Yet 'neath a curtain of translucent dew, Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, Hesperus with the host of heaven came; And lo, Creation widened in man's view.
Página 268 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
Página 284 - Sadly, but not with upbraiding The generous deed was done. In the storm of the years that are fading No braver battle was won: — Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the Judgment Day: — Under the blossoms, the Blue; Under the garlands, the Gray.
Página 242 - Noiselessly as the daylight Comes back when night is done, And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek Grows into the great sun. Noiselessly as the springtime Her crown of verdure weaves, And all the trees on all the hills Open their thousand leaves...
Página 107 - HOW dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view ! The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew...
Página 95 - O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming! And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there...
Página 189 - The muffled drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo ! No more on life's parade shall meet That brave and fallen few; On fame's eternal camping ground Their silent tents are spread. And glory guards, with solemn round. The bivouac of the dead.
Página 141 - With deep affection and recollection I often think of those Shandon bells, Whose sounds so wild would, in the days of childhood, Fling round my cradle their magic spells. On this I ponder, where'er I wander, And thus grow fonder, sweet Cork, of thee ; With thy bells of Shandon that sound so grand on The pleasant waters of the River Lee.

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