History of American Verse (1610-1897)McClurg, 1901 - 395 páginas |
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admirers Æneid American literature American poet American poetry American verse Anarchiad appeared artistic ballads bards beauty born Boston Bret Harte Bryant career century colonial contemporary Cotton Mather criticism death Della Cruscan didacticism dramatic early echoes edition efforts Elihu H Emerson England English entitled epic fame fancy Freneau genius Hartford Wits heart Holmes humor ideal idyl imagination imitative Indian influence inspired land later Leaves of Grass lines lished literary Longfellow Lowell Margaret Fuller melodious merit mind moral muse native nature never original patriotic period Poe's poet poet's poetic poetry political popular produced prose published Puritan readers rhymes satire seems sentiment singers song spirit spite stanzas strains success taste theme thought tion translation tribute true truth voice volume Washington Allston Washington Irving Whitman Whittier writers written wrote York young
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Página 299 - OUR age is retrospective. It builds the sepulchres of the fathers. It writes biographies, histories, and criticism. The foregoing generations beheld God and nature face to face; we, through their eyes. Why should not we also enjoy an original relation to the universe?
Página 176 - Smile O voluptuous cool-breath'd earth! Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees! Earth of departed sunset — earth of the mountains mistytopt! Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue!
Página 35 - The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider, or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked: his wrath towards you burns like fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be cast into the fire...
Página 333 - My feet strike an apex of the apices of the stairs, On every step bunches of ages, and larger bunches between the steps, All below duly travel'd, and still I mount and mount. Rise after rise bow the phantoms behind me, Afar down I see the huge first Nothing, I know I was even there...
Página 268 - EVENING. BY A TAILOR. DAY hath put on his jacket, and around His burning bosom buttoned it with stars. Here will I lay me on the velvet grass, That is like padding to earth's meagre ribs, And hold communion with the things about me. Ah me ! how lovely is the golden braid, That binds the skirt of night's descending robe! The thin leaves, quivering on their silken threads, Do make a music like to rustling satin, As the light breezes smooth their downy nap.
Página 176 - I am he that walks with the tender and growing night, I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night. Press close bare-bosom'd night— press close magnetic nourishing night! Night of south winds— night of the large few stars! Still nodding night— mad naked summer night.
Página 335 - COME, I will make the continent indissoluble, I will make the most splendid race the sun ever shone upon, I will make divine magnetic lands, With the love of comrades, With the life-long love of comrades. I will plant companionship thick as trees along all the rivers of America, and along the shores of the great lakes, and all over the prairies, I will make inseparable cities with their arms about each other's necks, By the love of comrades, By the manly love of comrades.
Página 242 - On seas less hideously serene. But lo, a stir is in the air! The wave — there is a movement there! As if the towers had thrust aside, In slightly sinking, the dull tide — As if their tops had feebly given A void within the filmy Heaven. The waves have now a redder glow — The hours are breathing faint and low — And when, amid no earthly moans, Down, down that town shall settle hence, Hell, rising from a thousand thrones, Shall do it reverence.
Página 37 - A crime it is; therefore, in bliss you may not hope to dwell; But unto you I shall allow the easiest room in hell.
Página 62 - Robbins, and wounded good young Frye, Who was our English Chaplain; he many Indians slew, And some of them he scalped when bullets round him flew.