LyricsHenry Van Dyke, Hardin Craig Doubleday, Page, 1905 - American poetry |
From inside the book
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Page 7
... sorrow ; and last of all the com- forting faith and the uplifting hope . Several of these last poems might , perhaps , have been classed with the hymns ; but again I can only say that I have put them into this volume because they seemed ...
... sorrow ; and last of all the com- forting faith and the uplifting hope . Several of these last poems might , perhaps , have been classed with the hymns ; but again I can only say that I have put them into this volume because they seemed ...
Page 18
... sorrow , he will weep ; If thou wake , he cannot sleep . Thus , of every grief in heart , He with thee doth bear a part . These are certain signs to know Faithful friend from flattering foe . " 50 1598 . Richard Barnfield . WHEN DAISIES ...
... sorrow , he will weep ; If thou wake , he cannot sleep . Thus , of every grief in heart , He with thee doth bear a part . These are certain signs to know Faithful friend from flattering foe . " 50 1598 . Richard Barnfield . WHEN DAISIES ...
Page 38
... sorrow in thy song , No winter in thy year ! O , could I fly , I'd fly with thee ! We'd make , with joyful wing , Our annual visit o'er the globe , Companions of the Spring . 12 16 20 24 28 John Logan . TO THE CUCKOO O BLITHE New ...
... sorrow in thy song , No winter in thy year ! O , could I fly , I'd fly with thee ! We'd make , with joyful wing , Our annual visit o'er the globe , Companions of the Spring . 12 16 20 24 28 John Logan . TO THE CUCKOO O BLITHE New ...
Page 45
... bleed : All wept , as I think both ye now would , If envy or age had not frozen your blood , At the sorrow of my sweet pipings . 36 Percy Bysshe Shelley . 1820 . 1824 . HYMN TO THE NIGHT I HEARD the trailing garments of 45 Wars,
... bleed : All wept , as I think both ye now would , If envy or age had not frozen your blood , At the sorrow of my sweet pipings . 36 Percy Bysshe Shelley . 1820 . 1824 . HYMN TO THE NIGHT I HEARD the trailing garments of 45 Wars,
Page 46
... sorrow and delight , The manifold , soft chimes , That fill the haunted chambers of the Night , Like some old poet's rhymes . From the cool cisterns of the midnight air My spirit drank repose ; The fountain of perpetual peace flows ...
... sorrow and delight , The manifold , soft chimes , That fill the haunted chambers of the Night , Like some old poet's rhymes . From the cool cisterns of the midnight air My spirit drank repose ; The fountain of perpetual peace flows ...
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Common terms and phrases
beauty bells birds blow bonnie bosom breast breath bright cheek County Guy Cuckoo dare Dark Rosaleen dear delight dost doth dream earth eyes fair Farewell fear flowers golden green Hark hast hath hear heart heaven Heigh Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Highlands kiss ladies light lips live look Lord Tennyson love thee Love's lover Luve Mary merry moon morning ne'er neir gone nest never night nightingale nonny o'er Percy Bysshe Shelley Richard Lovelace Robert Burns Robert Herrick rose Say nay shine shore sighs sing cuccu skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spring star-spangled banner stars stream sweet tears tell thine Thomas Thomas Campion Thomas Carew Thomas Hood thou art thoughts Titmouse tree unto voice wanton waves weary weep wild William Shakespeare wilt thou leave wind wings youth ΙΟ
Popular passages
Page 214 - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses?
Page 34 - Fair daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising sun Has not attained his noon. Stay, stay, Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having prayed together, we Will go with you along.
Page 58 - That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture!
Page 249 - Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me ; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon ; Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon ; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon: Sleep, my little one, sleep,...
Page 272 - Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Page 159 - I ARISE from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright: I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Hath led me — who knows how? To thy chamber window, Sweet ! The wandering airs they faint On the dark, the silent stream — The Champak odours fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream; The nightingale's complaint, It dies upon her heart; — As I must on thine, Oh, beloved as thou art!
Page 314 - Give me my scallop-shell of quiet, My staff of faith to walk upon. My scrip of joy, immortal diet, My bottle of salvation, My gown of glory, hope's true gage; And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.
Page 269 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER" I REMEMBER, I remember, The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn ; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now, I often wish the night Had borne my breath away!
Page 176 - Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome. Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche How statue-like I see thee stand! The agate lamp within thy hand, Ah! Psyche, from the regions which Are Holy Land!
Page 256 - Although thy breath be rude. Heigh-ho ! sing, heigh-ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly : Then, heigh-ho, the holly ! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not.