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ALBERT PIKE autumn beam beautiful beneath bird blest bloom blossoms bowers breast breath bright brow CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN chimes clouds dark deep dost dreams dwell earth EDWARD SANFORD EPES SARGENT eternal FELICIA HEMANS FITZ-GREENE HALLECK flashed flowers friends gaze gentle gleam glorious glory grave green Hadad HAMPTON BEACH hath hear heart heaven hills holy hour hues leaf leaves life's light lingers lone look melody mighty morning mother mountain mournful murmur NORTH BURIAL GROUND o'er PARK BENJAMIN passed PHILIP FRENEAU rest roar rock rolled round shade shadows shine shore sing skies sleep slumbers smile soft song soul sound spirit spring stars storm stream summer sunbeams sweet swells Tarn tears thee thine Thou art thoughts throng tree twilight URSA MAJOR vale voice WASHINGTON ALLSTON waves weary wild winds wings woods youthful
Strona 188 - The glory of Lebanon shall come unto thee, the fir tree, the pine tree and the box together, to beautify the place of my sanctuary; and 1 will make the place of my feet
Strona 175 - in this crowded air; I sometimes dream Angelic rays from thy pinions stream. Come then, ever, when daylight leaves The page I read, to my humble eaves, And wash thy breast in the hollow spout, And murmur thy low sweet music out! I hear and see Lessons of Heaven, sweet bird, in thee!
Strona 56 - have quenched Your ancient flames, and bid eternal night Rest on your spheres; and yet no tidings reach This distant planet. Messengers still come Laden with your far fire, and we may seem To see your lights still burning; while their blaze But hides the black wreck of extinguished realms, Where anarchy and darkness long have reigned.
Strona 177 - I gaze above—thy look is imaged there, I listen—and thy gentle tone Is on the air. Oh come, while here I press My brow upon thy grave—and, in those mild And thrilling tones of tenderness, Bless, bless thy child! Yes, bless thy weeping child, And o'er thine urn—religion's holiest shrine— Oh give his spirit
Strona 91 - HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. I have read, in some old marvellous tale, Some legend strange and vague, That a midnight host of spectres pale Beleaguered the walls of Prague. Beside the Moldau's rushing stream, With the wan moon overhead, There stood, as in an awful dream, The army of the dead. White as a sea-fog, landward bound, The spectral camp was seen, And, with a sorrowful, deep sound,
Strona 108 - of life shall sever. Remnant of days departed long, Emblem of plighted troth unbroken, Pledge of devoted faithfulness, Of heartfelt, holy love, the token— What varied feelings round it cling! For these, I like that ancient ring. THE MOON UPON THE SPIRE BY HANNAH F. GOULD. The full-orbed moon
Strona 238 - How great are his signs, and how mighty are his wonders; His kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and his dominion is from generation to generation."—Daniel.
Strona 43 - Yes, dear one, to the envied train Of those around thy homage pay; But wilt thou never kindly deign To think of him that's far away ? Thy form, thine eye, thine angel smile, For many years I may not see; But wilt thou not sometimes the while, My sister dear, remember me
Strona 229 - tis but the streak Of whirling snow;—the tempest's shriek— No human aid is near; Never again that form will meet Thy clasped embrace—those accents sweet Speak music to thine ear. Morn broke ;—away the clouds were chased, The sky was pure and bright, And on its blue, the branches traced
Strona 251 - Caught'st thou thy carol from Ottawa maid, Where, through the liquid fields of wild-rice plashing, Brushing the ears from off the burdened blade, Her birch canoe o'er some lone lake is flashing! Or did the reeds of some savannah south Detain thee, while thy northern flight pursuing, To place those melodies in thy sweet mouth,