Longfellow's poetical works. Author's complete copyr. ed |
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Strona 176
... Vict . Poor little dove ! Thou tremblest like a leaf ! Prec . I am so frightened ! ' Tis for thee I tremble ! I hate to have thee climb that wall by night ! Did no one see thee ? Vict . None , my love , but thou . Prec . ' Tis very ...
... Vict . Poor little dove ! Thou tremblest like a leaf ! Prec . I am so frightened ! ' Tis for thee I tremble ! I hate to have thee climb that wall by night ! Did no one see thee ? Vict . None , my love , but thou . Prec . ' Tis very ...
Strona 177
... Vict . That I am jealous of all eyes that see thee , And wish that they were blind . I heed them not ; Prec . When thou art present , I see none but thee ! Vict . There's nothing fair nor beautiful , but takes Something from thee , that ...
... Vict . That I am jealous of all eyes that see thee , And wish that they were blind . I heed them not ; Prec . When thou art present , I see none but thee ! Vict . There's nothing fair nor beautiful , but takes Something from thee , that ...
Strona 178
... Vict . Thou blessed angel ! Prec . And when thou wast gone I felt an aching here . I did not speak To any one that day . But from that day Bartolomé grew hateful unto me . Vict . Remember him no more . Let not his shadow Come between ...
... Vict . Thou blessed angel ! Prec . And when thou wast gone I felt an aching here . I did not speak To any one that day . But from that day Bartolomé grew hateful unto me . Vict . Remember him no more . Let not his shadow Come between ...
Strona 179
... Vict . Hear'st thou that cry ? Prec . To scare thee from me ! Vict . It is a hateful sound , As the hunter's horn Doth scare the timid stag , or bark of hounds The moor - fowl from his mate . Prec . Pray , do not go ! Vict . I must away ...
... Vict . Hear'st thou that cry ? Prec . To scare thee from me ! Vict . It is a hateful sound , As the hunter's horn Doth scare the timid stag , or bark of hounds The moor - fowl from his mate . Prec . Pray , do not go ! Vict . I must away ...
Strona 180
... Vict . And brings to me Sweet fragrance from thy lips , as the soft wind Wafts to the out - bound mariner the breath Of the beloved land he leaves behind . Prec . Make not thy voyage long . Vict . To - morrow night Shall see me safe ...
... Vict . And brings to me Sweet fragrance from thy lips , as the soft wind Wafts to the out - bound mariner the breath Of the beloved land he leaves behind . Prec . Make not thy voyage long . Vict . To - morrow night Shall see me safe ...
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Kluczowe wyrazy i wyrażenia
Acadian Angel answered art thou beautiful behold beneath birds breath brooklet Caiaphas Chispa Christus cloud Corey cried dark dead death door dost dream earth Endicott Essenians eyes face father fear fire forest gleam golden hand hath hear heard heart heaven Hiawatha holy Jews John Endicott Kenabeek King Olaf land Lara leaves light listen look Lord loud Lucifer maiden Manahem meadow merry Miles Standish Mondamin moon morning night Nokomis o'er Osseo passed Pau-Puk-Keewis Pharisees pray prayer Prec Priest Prince Henry river round sail sang shadow shalt shining Sigrid the Haughty silent singing sleep smile song Song of Hiawatha sorrow soul sound spake speak spirit stars stood sunshine sweet tale Tharaw thee thine things thou art thou hast thought Tituba unto Vict village voice wait walls wampum wigwam wild wind wonder words
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 3 - For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the...
Strona 44 - Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State ! Sail on, O Union, strong and great ! Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! We know what Master laid thy keel, What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope ! Fear not each sudden sound and shock, Tis of the wave and not the rock ; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail,...
Strona 268 - I SHOT an arrow into the air, It fell to earth I knew not where ; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where ; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song ! Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke ; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend.
Strona 17 - It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes.
Strona 17 - The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
Strona 264 - THE day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, 'That my soul cannot resist: A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
Strona 264 - Read from some humbler poet, Whose songs gushed from his heart. As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from...
Strona 294 - LISTEN, my children, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five ; Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year. He said to his friend, "If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower as a signal light, — One, if by land, and two, if by sea; And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village...
Strona 296 - So through the night rode Paul Revere ; And so through the night went his cry of alarm To every Middlesex village and farm, — A cry of defiance and not of fear, A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, And a word that shall echo for evermore!
Strona 44 - Tis of the wave and not the rock ; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale ! In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the shore, Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee...