A New England ReaderVan Wyck Brooks New England literature from William Bradford to the poems of Robert Lowell. |
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Page 17
... soul to be , what I know not otherwise how to express , emptied and annihilated ; to lie in the dust and to be full of Christ alone ; to love him with a holy and pure love ; to trust in him , to live upon him , to serve and follow him ...
... soul to be , what I know not otherwise how to express , emptied and annihilated ; to lie in the dust and to be full of Christ alone ; to love him with a holy and pure love ; to trust in him , to live upon him , to serve and follow him ...
Page 58
... soul ascended ! There from the flowing bowl Deep drinks the warrior's soul , Skoal ! to the Northland ! skoal ! Thus the tale ended . THE DAY IS DONE The day is done , and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night , As a feather is ...
... soul ascended ! There from the flowing bowl Deep drinks the warrior's soul , Skoal ! to the Northland ! skoal ! Thus the tale ended . THE DAY IS DONE The day is done , and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night , As a feather is ...
Page 161
... soul of it is born in an instant in the poet's soul . It comes to him a thought , tangled in the meshes of a few sweet words , -words that have loved each other from the cradle of the language , but have never been wedded until now ...
... soul of it is born in an instant in the poet's soul . It comes to him a thought , tangled in the meshes of a few sweet words , -words that have loved each other from the cradle of the language , but have never been wedded until now ...
Contents
The Landing of the Pilgrims | 3 |
To My Dear and Loving Husband | 9 |
A Confession | 16 |
Copyright | |
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appeared asked beauty became become began better born Boston brought called carried character child comes course dark door early England expression eyes face father feel feet felt fire followed gave give half hand head hear heard heart hold horse hour human Island Italy kind knew known land learned leave less light lived looked Louisa means mind Miss morning mother nature never night once Ophelia passed perhaps person poems poet present round Rugg sail seemed seen sense side soon soul sound talk tell things thought took Topsy town trees turned voice watch whole wind wood young youth