The Living Authors of America: 1st serStringer and Townsend, 1850 - 365 páginas |
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Página 37
... breathing caused him to start . On every side he bent a phrensied eye , and on every side he beheld the profound repose of that treacherous element which is so terrible in its wrath . Like the human heart , it seemed to sympa- thize ...
... breathing caused him to start . On every side he bent a phrensied eye , and on every side he beheld the profound repose of that treacherous element which is so terrible in its wrath . Like the human heart , it seemed to sympa- thize ...
Página 58
... breath Wakes from its silent death , And that long - perished bird once more I hear it sing . " I feel a bright form stand , One of the seraph band , Close at my side as in the times gone by . Once more his little feet With my long ...
... breath Wakes from its silent death , And that long - perished bird once more I hear it sing . " I feel a bright form stand , One of the seraph band , Close at my side as in the times gone by . Once more his little feet With my long ...
Página 71
... breath of life . The grass grows , the buds burst ; the meadow is spotted with fire and gold in the tint of flowers ; the air is full of birds , and sweet with the breath of the pine , the balm of Gilead , and the new hay . Night brings ...
... breath of life . The grass grows , the buds burst ; the meadow is spotted with fire and gold in the tint of flowers ; the air is full of birds , and sweet with the breath of the pine , the balm of Gilead , and the new hay . Night brings ...
Página 78
... breath of the Heart of Man . He was a satirist , and not a poet ; the personal dies with the man and his victim , but the universal will live for ever . In like manner , to descend to the present day , we can come pretty near a ...
... breath of the Heart of Man . He was a satirist , and not a poet ; the personal dies with the man and his victim , but the universal will live for ever . In like manner , to descend to the present day , we can come pretty near a ...
Página 82
... breath As he grew earnest inwardly . There came A gradual brightness o'er his calm , sad face : And drawing nearer to the bed , he moved The silken curtains silently apart , And looked upon the maiden . " This short passage displays ...
... breath As he grew earnest inwardly . There came A gradual brightness o'er his calm , sad face : And drawing nearer to the bed , he moved The silken curtains silently apart , And looked upon the maiden . " This short passage displays ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Acadian admiration Alnwick Castle American Annabel Lee beauty beneath breath Bryant Byron Cachuca Carmelite character charm Coleridge consider Cooper critic Dana dark death dramatist dream earth elaborate elegant Emerson England English evidence expression fact fair feel force genius George Sand give gondola grave Halleck hand hath heard heart heaven HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW human HYPOLITO intellect JARED SPARKS Kirkland lady land Leigh Hunt light lines living Longfellow look Margaret Fuller mind Miss Fuller monomania nation Natty Bumppo nature never o'er once opinion passion peculiar poem poet poet's poetical poetry Prescott present prose quote Ralph Waldo Emerson reader remarks romance scene seems Shakspeare singular smile soul sound spirit stanza style sure sweet thee things thou thought throw tion true truth verse voice Willis woman word Wordsworth writings
Pasajes populares
Página 130 - Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,— " Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, " art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore !" Quoth the Raven,
Página 127 - The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, Went envying her and me Yes! that was the reason (as all men know. In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night. Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
Página 208 - THE groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above them — ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems ; in the darkling wood, Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down, And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And supplication.
Página 129 - But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you" — here I opened wide the door; Darkness there and nothing more.
Página 128 - Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of, forgotten lore, — While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door: Only this and nothing more.
Página 84 - And marked the mild, angelic air, The rapture of repose that's there, The fixed yet tender traits that streak The languor of the placid cheek, And — but for that sad shrouded eye, That fires not, wins not, weeps not now, And but for that chill, changeless brow...
Página 194 - I see before me the Gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand — his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his drooped head sinks gradually low — And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder shower ; and now The arena swims around him : he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won.
Página 219 - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A Creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food; For transient sorrows , simple wiles , Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
Página 127 - Of many far wiser than we; And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee: For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee...
Página 159 - The village smithy stands ; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands ; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.