Songs of Labor, and Other PoemsTicknor, Reed, and Fields, 1850 - 127 páginas |
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Página 20
... patriot fame of Sherman ; Still from his book , a mystic seer , The soul of Behmen teaches , And England's priestcraft shakes to hear Of Fox's leathern breeches ! The foot is yours ; where'er it falls , It 20 SONGS OF LABOR .
... patriot fame of Sherman ; Still from his book , a mystic seer , The soul of Behmen teaches , And England's priestcraft shakes to hear Of Fox's leathern breeches ! The foot is yours ; where'er it falls , It 20 SONGS OF LABOR .
Página 93
... might Have lighted up and led his age , Falls back in night . Scorn ! would the angels laugh , to mark A bright soul driven , Fiend - goaded , down the endless dark , From hope and heaven ! Let not the land , once proud of him , ICHABOD.
... might Have lighted up and led his age , Falls back in night . Scorn ! would the angels laugh , to mark A bright soul driven , Fiend - goaded , down the endless dark , From hope and heaven ! Let not the land , once proud of him , ICHABOD.
Página 94
... soul has fled : When faith is lost , when honor dies , The man is dead ! Then , pay the reverence of old days To his dead fame ; Walk backward , with averted gaze , And hide the shame ! THE CHRISTIAN TOURISTS . " No aimless wanderers ...
... soul has fled : When faith is lost , when honor dies , The man is dead ! Then , pay the reverence of old days To his dead fame ; Walk backward , with averted gaze , And hide the shame ! THE CHRISTIAN TOURISTS . " No aimless wanderers ...
Página 100
... souls from bonds and evil fate , St. Ambrose melted down the sacred plate - Image of saint , the chalice and the pix , Crosses of gold , and silver candlesticks . " MAN IS WORTH MORE THAN TEMPLES ! " he replied To such as came his holy ...
... souls from bonds and evil fate , St. Ambrose melted down the sacred plate - Image of saint , the chalice and the pix , Crosses of gold , and silver candlesticks . " MAN IS WORTH MORE THAN TEMPLES ! " he replied To such as came his holy ...
Página 102
... fear of hell ! Soft words , smooth prophecies , are doubtless well ; But to rebuke the age's popular crime , We need the souls of fire , the hearts of that old time ! THE PEACE CONVENTION AT BRUSSELS . STILL in thy streets 102 POEMS .
... fear of hell ! Soft words , smooth prophecies , are doubtless well ; But to rebuke the age's popular crime , We need the souls of fire , the hearts of that old time ! THE PEACE CONVENTION AT BRUSSELS . STILL in thy streets 102 POEMS .
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Termos e frases comuns
50 cents ALFRED TENNYSON Autumn beauty beneath birds bless bloom BOSTON breath breath of heaven breeze bright Briton brow clouds cold dark dead dream DROVERS earth Edition faithless falls feel fire Fling flowers forest frost Gaul glisten glow God's graceful grain gray green hand harvest hath hear heart heaven Hebrides hill holy ICAL Indian JOHN G lake leaves Life's light lips Loch Maree Lord manhood's melted merry mountains Naples night night is falling peace pines POEMS poor prayer price 50 price 75 cents quiet rain rocks Rome round rugged sands shadows shining shone showers slave smile snow soft SONGS OF LABOR soul sound spectral Stanford University summer sunset sunshine sweet thee thine thou thought TICKNOR toil tones tongue tread trod truth unto vales volume wall wave weary Where'er WHITTIER wild wind wood woodland
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Página 111 - The riches of the commonwealth Are free, strong minds, and hearts of health ; And more to her than gold or grain, The cunning hand and cultured brain.
Página 34 - ... autumnal rain Had left the summer harvest-fields all green with grass again; The first sharp frosts had fallen, leaving all the woodlands gay With the hues of summer's rainbow, or the meadowflowers of May. Through a thin, dry mist, that morning, the sun rose broad and red, At first a rayless...
Página 13 - THE SHIP-BUILDERS. THE sky is ruddy in the east, The earth is gray below, And, spectral in the river-mist, The ship's white timbers show. Then let the sounds of measured stroke And grating saw begin ; The...
Página 93 - Revile him not — the Tempter hath A snare for all ; And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath, Befit his fall ! Oh ! dumb be passion's stormy rage, When he who might Have lighted up and led his age, Falls back in night.
Página 34 - THE HUSKERS. IT was late in mild October, and the long autumnal rain Had left the summer harvest-fields all green with grass again; The first sharp frosts had fallen, leaving all the woodlands gay With the hues of summer's rainbow, or the meadowflowers of May.
Página 40 - We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain Beneath the sun of May, And frightened from our sprouting grain The robber crows away. All through the long, bright days of June Its leaves grew green and fair, And waved in hot midsummer's noon Its soft and yellow hair. And now, with autumn's moonlit eves, Its harvest- time has come, We pluck away the frosted leaves, And bear the treasure home.
Página 36 - Mingled the glow of autumn with the sunshine of sweet looks. From spire and barn looked westerly the patient weathercocks; But even the birches on the hill stood motionless as rocks. No sound was in the woodlands, save the squirrel's dropping shell, And the yellow leaves among the boughs, low rustling as they fell.
Página 94 - But let its humbled sons, instead, From sea to lake, A long lament, as for the dead, In sadness make. Of all we loved and honored, naught Save power remains; A fallen angel's pride of thought, Still strong in chains.
Página 6 - So haply these, my simple lays Of homely toil, may serve to show The orchard bloom and tasselled maize That skirt and gladden duty's ways, The unsung beauty hid life's common things below. Haply from them the toiler, bent Above his forge or plough, may gain A manlier spirit of content, And feel that life is wisest spent Where the strong working hand makes strong the working brain.
Página 41 - Where'er the wide old kitchen hearth Sends up its smoky curls, Who will not thank the kindly earth, And bless our farmer girls! Then shame on all the proud and vain, Whose folly laughs to scorn The blessing of our hardy grain, Our wealth of golden corn ! Let earth withhold her goodly root, Let mildew blight the rye, Give to the worm the orchard's fruit, The wheat-field to the fly : But let the good old crop adorn The hills our fathers trod ; Still let us, for his golden corn, Send up our thanks to...