Poems of Places: AmericaHenry Wadsworth Longfellow J.R. Osgood and Company, 1881 |
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Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
afar beauty beneath birds bloom blue breast breath breeze bright calm Christian river cliffs climb clouds dark dead deep dream earth elms eyes face fair fall feet forest forever gleam glimmering gloom glory glow golden grave gray green hear heard heart heaven Henry Wadsworth Longfellow hills isle John Greenleaf Whittier lake land laugh light lonely look Lucy Larcom meadows mists Monadnock moon morning mountain murmuring mystery Narragansett Bay Newbury town Newport town night Norembega Norridgewock o'er ocean Old North Church Ossipee Paul Revere PAWTUCKET FALLS pines prayer river rocks rose round sails Sarah Helen Whitman shade shadow shine ship shore sight silent sing skies smile song soul sound spires stars stood stream summer sunset sweet thee thou thoughts tide tower town trees vale village voice wall Wampanoags wandering watch waters waves wild wind woods youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 125 - Then, from those cavernous eyes Pale flashes seemed to rise, As when the Northern skies Gleam in December; And, like the water's flow Under December's snow, Came a dull voice of woe From the heart's chamber. " I was a Viking old ! My deeds, though manifold, No Skald in song has told, No Saga taught thee ! Take heed, that in thy verse Thou dost the tale rehearse, Else dread a dead man's curse ; For this I sought thee. " Far in the Northern Land, By the wild Baltic's strand, I, with my childish hand...
Seite 59 - and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, Just as the moon rose over the bay, Where swinging wide at her moorings lay The Somerset, British man-of-war ; A phantom ship, with each mast and spar Across the moon like a prison bar, And a huge black hulk, that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide.
Seite 186 - Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea: And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free ! The ocean eagle soared From his nest by the white wave's foam : And the rocking pines of the forest roared, — This was their welcome home...
Seite 198 - MY LOST YOUTH. OFTEN I think of the beautiful town That is seated by the sea ; Often in thought go up and down The pleasant streets of that dear- old town, And my youth comes back to me. And a verse of a Lapland song Is haunting my memory still : " A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.
Seite 255 - Were half the power that fills the world with terror, Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals or forts: The warrior's name would be a name abhorred!
Seite 255 - Down the dark future, through long generations, The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease; And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, I hear once more the voice of Christ say,' Peace I
Seite 129 - Then launched they to the blast, Bent like a reed each mast, Yet we were gaining fast, When the wind failed us; And with a sudden flaw Came round the gusty Skaw, So that our foe we saw Laugh as he hailed us. "And as to catch the gale Round veered the flapping sail, 'Death!' was the helmsman's hail, 'Death without quarter!
Seite 239 - How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view! The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew! The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it, The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell, The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it, And e'en the rude bucket that hung in the well — The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket which hung in the well.
Seite 34 - WE sat within the farmhouse old, Whose windows, looking o'er the bay, Gave to the sea-breeze, damp and cold, An easy entrance, night and day. Not far away we saw the port, — • The strange, old-fashioned, silent town,—. The lighthouse, — the dismantled fort, — The wooden houses, quaint and brown.
Seite 240 - That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure ; For often, at noon, when returned from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, The purest and sweetest that nature can yield.