PoemsJohn Camden Hotten, Piccadilly, 1868 - 403 páginas |
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Página 58
... living from the dead or the righteous from the unrighteous , is satisfied with the present , matches every thought or act by its correlative , knows no pos- sible forgiveness or deputed atonement — knows that the young man who ...
... living from the dead or the righteous from the unrighteous , is satisfied with the present , matches every thought or act by its correlative , knows no pos- sible forgiveness or deputed atonement — knows that the young man who ...
Página 77
... Living beings , identities , now doubtless near us , in the air , that we know not of ; Contact daily and hourly that will not release me ; These selecting these , in hints , demanded of me . Not he with a daily kiss onward from ...
... Living beings , identities , now doubtless near us , in the air , that we know not of ; Contact daily and hourly that will not release me ; These selecting these , in hints , demanded of me . Not he with a daily kiss onward from ...
Página 83
... living spiritually and in his poems after the death of the body , still a friend and brother to all present and future American lands and persons . Yet Canadian cheerily braving the winter — the snow and G 2 CHANTS DEMOCRATIC . 83.
... living spiritually and in his poems after the death of the body , still a friend and brother to all present and future American lands and persons . Yet Canadian cheerily braving the winter — the snow and G 2 CHANTS DEMOCRATIC . 83.
Página 120
... living advance , And the future is no more uncertain than the present , And the roughness of the earth and of man encloses as much as the delicatesse of the earth and of man , And nothing endures but personal qualities . What do you ...
... living advance , And the future is no more uncertain than the present , And the roughness of the earth and of man encloses as much as the delicatesse of the earth and of man , And nothing endures but personal qualities . What do you ...
Página 125
... living only , then as now , but served the dead . 8 . I see the European headsman ; He stands masked , clothed in red , with huge legs , and strong naked arms , And leans on a ponderous axe . Whom have you slaughtered lately , European ...
... living only , then as now , but served the dead . 8 . I see the European headsman ; He stands masked , clothed in red , with huge legs , and strong naked arms , And leans on a ponderous axe . Whom have you slaughtered lately , European ...
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Termos e frases comuns
Algernon Charles Swinburne American amid appears arms Artemus Ward beauty behold blood body brother chant Chastelard cloth coloured comrades crowd Crown 8vo curious dead dear death Democracy divine dream drums earth edition electric telegraph English eternal eyes face Fcap forms GEORGE CRUIKSHANK give greatest poet GUSTAVE DORÉ hand hear John Camden Hotten lands Leaves of Grass Libertad liberty little and large living look lovers Manhattan Mannahatta master morocco mother nations never night pass passion perfect persons Pioneers poems poet poetic poetry present race rest rich rise rivers sail shapes arise ships shores silent sing skald sleep soldiers song soul spirit stand stars strong sweet Swinburne Swinburne's things thought to-day toned paper vast voice volume wait walk Walt Whitman whoever WILLIAM MICHAEL ROSSETTI wind woman women woods words young
Passagens mais conhecidas
Página 308 - Come lovely and soothing death, Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving, In the day, in the night, to all, to each, Sooner or later delicate death. Praised be the fathomless universe, For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious, And for love, sweet love — but praise! praise! praise! For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding death.
Página 311 - O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells: Rise up! for you the flag is flung — for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths — for you the shores a-crowding; For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning. Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck You've fallen cold and dead.
Página 311 - O Captain! My Captain! O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain!
Página 312 - My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will...
Página 234 - RECONCILIATION WORD over all, beautiful as the sky, Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage must in time be utterly lost, That the hands of the sisters Death and Night incessantly softly wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world; For my enemy is dead, a man divine as myself is dead, I look where he lies white-faced and still in the coffin — I draw near, Bend down and touch lightly with my lips the white face in the coffin.
Página 309 - Dark mother always gliding near with soft feet, Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest welcome? Then I chant it for thee, I glorify thee above all, I bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come unfalteringly. Approach strong...
Página 239 - There was a child went forth every day, And the first object he look'd upon, that object he became, And that object became part of him for the day or a certain part of the day, Or for many years or stretching cycles of years.
Página 302 - With the tolling tolling bells' perpetual clang, Here, coffin that slowly passes, I give you my sprig of lilac. (Nor for you, for one alone, Blossoms and branches green to coffins all I bring, For fresh as the morning, thus would I chant a song for you O sane and sacred death. All over bouquets of roses...
Página 241 - The doubts of day-time and the doubts of night-time, the curious whether and how, Whether that which appears so is so, or is it all flashes and specks...
Página 300 - In the swamp in secluded recesses, A shy and hidden bird is warbling a song. Solitary the thrush, The hermit withdrawn to himself, avoiding the settlements, Sings by himself a song. Song of the bleeding throat, Death's outlet song of life, (for well dear brother I know, If thou wast not granted to sing thou would'st surely die...