 | William Holmes McGuffey - 1853 - 492 páginas
...ages. 6. All that tread The globe, are but a handful, to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Takeithe wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or...thyself in the "''continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save its own dashings — yet — the dead are there; And millions in those... | |
 | Ludwig Herrig - 1854 - 580 páginas
...heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber...lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there; And millions in those... | |
 | John Frost - 1855 - 462 páginas
...heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that trea£ The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber...lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound,. Save his own dashings, yet, the dead are there. And millions in those... | |
 | Rufus Wilmot Griswold - 1855 - 690 páginas
...morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, ted ! See, from those sweet windows peeping, Emotions...bright, and pure, And wonder not the faith I 'm keeping Tn their last sleep — the dead there reign alone. So ehalt thou rest, — and what if thou withdraw... | |
 | James Madison MacDonald - 1855 - 396 páginas
...glory. God is present everywhere. There are no solitudes in this universe. No man can ever be alone. " Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce,...lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save hia own dashings— "* yet, the Lord is there ; " in the void waste... | |
 | William Cullen Bryant - 1855 - 318 páginas
...the tribes That slumber in its bosom.—Take the -wings Of morning, traverse Barca's desert sands, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings—yet—the dead are there : And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years... | |
 | William Cullen Bryant - 1855 - 320 páginas
...to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.—Take the wings Of morning, traverse Barca's desert sands, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings—yet—the dead are there : And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years... | |
 | John Wilson - 1856 - 432 páginas
...heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber...lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings ; yet the dead are there, And millions in those solitudes,... | |
 | 1856 - 518 páginas
...heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber...lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings ; yet — the dead are there ; And millions in those... | |
 | John Wilson - 1856 - 412 páginas
...heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber...lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings ; yet the dead are there, And millions in those solitudes,... | |
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Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings, yet the dead are there ; And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep: the dead... 
