The Magazine of Poetry and Literary Review, Volume 3Charles Wells Moulton C.W. Moulton, 1891 - American poetry |
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Page 4
... sings ? THERE is ever a song somewhere , my dear ; There is ever a something sings alway : There's the song of the lark when the skies are clear , And the song of the thrush when the skies are gray . The sunshine showers across the ...
... sings ? THERE is ever a song somewhere , my dear ; There is ever a something sings alway : There's the song of the lark when the skies are clear , And the song of the thrush when the skies are gray . The sunshine showers across the ...
Page 12
... sings . Who is the Queen of Baby - Land ? Mother , kind and sweet , And her love , Born above , Guides the little feet ! A MIDSUMMER DAY . THERE'S a flush in the sky of crimson deep ; From a waking bird there's a drowsy cheep ; There's ...
... sings . Who is the Queen of Baby - Land ? Mother , kind and sweet , And her love , Born above , Guides the little feet ! A MIDSUMMER DAY . THERE'S a flush in the sky of crimson deep ; From a waking bird there's a drowsy cheep ; There's ...
Page 23
... sing of war , of courage tried and true , Of heroes wed to gallant deeds , or be it Gray or Blue , Then Albert Sidney Johnston's name shall flash before our sight Like some resplendent meteor across the sombre night . America , thy sons ...
... sing of war , of courage tried and true , Of heroes wed to gallant deeds , or be it Gray or Blue , Then Albert Sidney Johnston's name shall flash before our sight Like some resplendent meteor across the sombre night . America , thy sons ...
Page 31
... Sing ! is it not enough of bliss To be on earth such a night as this ? Light , maybe is the sheaf I bring , — But there was the joy of gathering ! Hark ! the crash , — and the long , low roar , Rattle and hiss on the pebbly shore ...
... Sing ! is it not enough of bliss To be on earth such a night as this ? Light , maybe is the sheaf I bring , — But there was the joy of gathering ! Hark ! the crash , — and the long , low roar , Rattle and hiss on the pebbly shore ...
Page 33
... singing and the laughter , The voice of councils and of kings , —if men but pause to hear , There sounds a low , wild moan through all , and in the silence after It rises like the deep sea's wail into the heavens clear . Down the long ...
... singing and the laughter , The voice of councils and of kings , —if men but pause to hear , There sounds a low , wild moan through all , and in the silence after It rises like the deep sea's wail into the heavens clear . Down the long ...
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Common terms and phrases
Albert Sidney Johnston angels beautiful birds bless bloom blue born Boston breast breath bright brow crown dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth eyes face fair feet flowers FORCEYTHE WILLSON frae FRANCIS SALTUS SALTUS friends G. P. Putnam's Sons gold golden grace grave gray hand hast hath hear heart heaven hour Ibid kiss land life's light lips literary live London look love's Magazine of Poetry Maryland Miscellaneous poems morning mother neath never night o'er pain pass peace PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON poet poetic published rest rose shadows shine sigh silence sing skies sleep smile soft song Sonnets sorrow soul spirit stars strong summer sweet tears thee thine things thought tree vers de société verse voice weary WILLIAM WHITTLESEY wind wings woman wonder words York youth
Popular passages
Page 245 - As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal;" Let the hero born of woman crush the serpent with his heel...
Page 245 - Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword. His truth is marching on.
Page 111 - Where'er he sees a smile too bright, Or heart too pure for taint and vice, He bears it to that world of light, To dwell in Paradise. Born...
Page 251 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
Page 384 - I cannot eat but little meat, My stomach is not good ; But sure I think, that I can drink With him that wears a hood : Though I go bare, take ye no care ; I nothing am a-cold : I stuff my skin so full within Of jolly good ale and old.
Page 245 - Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife ! To all the sensual world proclaim, One crowded hour of glorious life Is worth an age without a name.
Page 244 - Some feelings are to mortals given, With less of earth in them than heaven ; And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek, It would not stain an angel's cheek, 'Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head...
Page 245 - In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me: As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, While God is marching on.
Page 382 - ... plump ; a right jolly old elf; And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself. A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings ; then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle , But I heard him exclaim, ere he...
Page 393 - If music be the food of love, play on ; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again ! it had a dying fall : O ! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.