 | John Wilson - 1856 - 416 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,... | |
 | Joseph Gostwick - 1856 - 338 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... | |
 | Robert Kemp Philp - 1856 - 388 páginas
...surface, is little else than the mighty sepulchre of the past ; and " All that tread The globe arc but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom....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 these... | |
 | Evert Augustus Duyckinck, George Long Duyckinck - 1856 - 838 páginas
...the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound. Save his own dashiiigs — \et — the dead are there : And millions in those solitudes,...flight of years began, have laid them down In their lost sleep — the dead reign there alone. So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw In silence... | |
 | David Charles Bell - 1856 - 466 páginas
...still lapse of ages. All that tread the globe are but a handful, to the tribes that slumber in ite bosom. Take the wings of morning, and the Barcan desert...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... | |
 | 1856 - 500 páginas
...those of death ; or rather, the inspiration of the former are everywhere consecrated by the latter. " 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 his own dashings, — yet — the dead are there ! " We enter a city... | |
 | William Holmes McGuffey - 1857 - 456 páginas
...heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. 6. 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,... | |
 | John Seely Hart - 1857 - 394 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... | |
 | 1857 - 516 páginas
...those of death; or rather, the inspiration of the former are everywhere consecrated by the latter. "Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert...lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings, — yet — the dead are there !" We enter a city... | |
 | John Kitto - 1857 - 516 páginas
...those of death; or rather, the inspiration of the former are everywhere consecrated by the latter. "Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert...lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings, — yet — the dead are there !" We enter a city... | |
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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... 
