The poetical works of H.W. Longfellow |
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Página 12
... thou hast ever thy jest and thy ballad ! Ever in cheerfullest mood art thou , when others are filled with Gloomy forebodings of ill , and see only ruin before them . Happy art thou , as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe ...
... thou hast ever thy jest and thy ballad ! Ever in cheerfullest mood art thou , when others are filled with Gloomy forebodings of ill , and see only ruin before them . Happy art thou , as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe ...
Página 23
... thy hand and be happy ! Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Catherine's tresses . " Then would Evangeline answer , serenely but sadly : - " I cannot ; Whither my heart has gone , there follows my hand , and not elsewhere . For ...
... thy hand and be happy ! Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Catherine's tresses . " Then would Evangeline answer , serenely but sadly : - " I cannot ; Whither my heart has gone , there follows my hand , and not elsewhere . For ...
Página 30
... Art thou so near unto me , and yet I cannot behold thee ? Art thou so near unto me , and yet thy voice does not reach me ? Ah , how often thy feet have trod this path to the prairie ! Ah , how often thine eyes have looked on the ...
... Art thou so near unto me , and yet I cannot behold thee ? Art thou so near unto me , and yet thy voice does not reach me ? Ah , how often thy feet have trod this path to the prairie ! Ah , how often thine eyes have looked on the ...
Página 40
... thy lay ; Thou art no more a child ! " The land of Song within thee lies , Watered by living springs ; The lids of Fancy's sleepless eyes Are gates unto that Paradise , Holy thoughts , like stars , arise , Its clouds are angels ' wings ...
... thy lay ; Thou art no more a child ! " The land of Song within thee lies , Watered by living springs ; The lids of Fancy's sleepless eyes Are gates unto that Paradise , Holy thoughts , like stars , arise , Its clouds are angels ' wings ...
Página 41
... Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care , And they complain no more . Peace ! Peace ! Orestes - like I breathe ... art , to dust returnest , " Was not spoken of the soul . Not enjoyment , and not sorrow , Is our destined end or way ; But ...
... Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care , And they complain no more . Peace ! Peace ! Orestes - like I breathe ... art , to dust returnest , " Was not spoken of the soul . Not enjoyment , and not sorrow , Is our destined end or way ; But ...
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
The Poetical Works of H. W. Longfellow. [Illustrated.] Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Vista completa - 1864 |
Términos y frases comunes
angel answer arms beautiful behold beneath birds breath bright child CHISPA clouds comes Count dance dark dead Death deep dream earth Enter eyes face fair faith fall father fear feel feet fire flowers follow Gipsy give gleam gold golden grave hand hast head hear heard heart heaven holy hope hour HYPOLITO land LARA leaves light lips living look maiden morning never night o'er once PADRE pass play poor Pray prayer PRECIOSA rest ring rise river round sail Saint sang SCENE seemed shadows ships side silent singing sleep soft song soul sound speak spirit stands stars stood strong sweet tears tell thee things thou thou art thought unto VICTORIAN village voice wait walls waters wave wild wind window young youth
Pasajes populares
Página 64 - 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.
Página 115 - THE shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, Excelsior ! His brow was sad ; his eye beneath Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, Excelsior...
Página 83 - The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an Eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, That my soul cannot resist; A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
Página 7 - 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.
Página 99 - Like the horns of an angry bull. Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, With the masts went by the board; Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank, Ho! ho! the breakers roared! At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach, A fisherman stood aghast, To see the form of a maiden fair, Lashed close to a drifting mast. The salt sea was frozen on her breast, The salt tears in her eyes; And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, On the billows fall and rise. Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, In the midnight...
Página 57 - Tis of the wave and not the rock ; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale ! In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the shore. Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with th.ee.
Página 57 - Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! Sail on, O UNION, strong and great! Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate...
Página 42 - WHEN the hours of Day are numbered, And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight; Ere the evening lamps are lighted, And, like phantoms grim and tall, Shadows from the fitful fire-light Dance upon the parlor wall; Then the forms of the departed Enter at the open door; The beloved, the true-hearted, Come to visit me once more...
Página 97 - Colder and louder blew the wind, A gale from the Northeast; The snow fell hissing in the brine, And the billows frothed like yeast. Down came the storm, and smote amain, The vessel in its strength; She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed, Then leaped her cable's length. "Come hither! come hither! my little daughter, And do not tremble so; For I can weather the roughest gale, That ever wind did blow.
Página 94 - Oft to his frozen lair Tracked I the grisly bear, While from my path the hare Fled like a shadow; Oft through the forest dark Followed the were-wolf's bark, Until the soaring lark Sang from the meadow. "But when I older grew, Joining a corsair's crew, O'er the dark sea I flew With the marauders. Wild was the life we led, Many the souls that sped, Many the hearts that bled, By our stern orders.