LyricsHenry Van Dyke, Hardin Craig Doubleday, Page, 1905 - American poetry |
From inside the book
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Page 26
... thou art sitting Under the glassy , cool , translucent wave In twisted braids of lilies knitting The loose train of thy amber - dropping hair ; Listen for dear honour's sake , Goddess of the silver lake , Listen and save ! 8 Listen and ...
... thou art sitting Under the glassy , cool , translucent wave In twisted braids of lilies knitting The loose train of thy amber - dropping hair ; Listen for dear honour's sake , Goddess of the silver lake , Listen and save ! 8 Listen and ...
Page 30
... THOU that swing'st upon the waving hair Of some well - filled oaten beard , Drunk every night with a delicious tear Dropt thee from heaven , where th ' art rear'd ! The joys of earth and air are thine entire , That with thy feet and ...
... THOU that swing'st upon the waving hair Of some well - filled oaten beard , Drunk every night with a delicious tear Dropt thee from heaven , where th ' art rear'd ! The joys of earth and air are thine entire , That with thy feet and ...
Page 39
... Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours . Thrice welcome , darling of the Spring ! Even yet thou art to me No bird , but an invisible thing . A voice , a mystery ; The same whom in my school - boy days I listened to ; that Cry ...
... Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours . Thrice welcome , darling of the Spring ! Even yet thou art to me No bird , but an invisible thing . A voice , a mystery ; The same whom in my school - boy days I listened to ; that Cry ...
Page 44
... thou me ? Thy sweet child Sleep , the filmy - eyed , Murmur'd like a noon - tide bee Shall I nestle near thy side ? Would'st thou me ? -- And I replied No , not thee ! Death will come when thou art ... thou art fled ; Of neither would I ask ...
... thou me ? Thy sweet child Sleep , the filmy - eyed , Murmur'd like a noon - tide bee Shall I nestle near thy side ? Would'st thou me ? -- And I replied No , not thee ! Death will come when thou art ... thou art fled ; Of neither would I ask ...
Page 47
... thou That send'st it from above , Appearing when Heaven's breath and brow Are sweet as hers we love . Come to the ... thou art , Too delicious to be riven By absence from the heart . 1824 . Thomas Campbell . 6 12 18 THE LIGHT OF STARS ...
... thou That send'st it from above , Appearing when Heaven's breath and brow Are sweet as hers we love . Come to the ... thou art , Too delicious to be riven By absence from the heart . 1824 . Thomas Campbell . 6 12 18 THE LIGHT OF STARS ...
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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.