St. Nicholas, Band 14

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Mary Mapes Dodge
Scribner & Company, 1887
 

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Seite 79 - There is a beautiful spirit breathing now Its mellow richness on the clustered trees, And, from a beaker full of richest dyes, Pouring new glory on the autumn woods, And dipping in warm light the pillared clouds.
Seite 327 - THOU singest by the gleaming isles, By woods, and fields of corn, Thou singest, and the sunlight smiles Upon my birthday morn. But I within a city, I, So full of vague unrest, Would almost give my life to lie An hour upon thy breast ! To let the wherry listless go, And, wrapt in dreamy joy, Dip, and surge idly to and fro, Like the red harbor-buoy ; To sit in happy indolence, To rest upon...
Seite 40 - You think I am dead," A soft voice said, " Because not a branch or a root I own ! I never have died, But close I hide In a plumy seed that the wind has sown. Patient I wait through the long winter hours ; You will see me again — I shall laugh at you then Out of the eyes of a hundred flowers.
Seite 343 - Flag of the free heart's hope and home, By angel hands to valor given ! Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven. Forever float that standard sheet ! Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us ? JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE.
Seite 199 - A stranger yet to pain ! I feel the gales that from ye blow, A momentary bliss bestow, As, waving fresh their gladsome wing, My weary soul they seem to sooth, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
Seite 40 - I pity the withered grass at my root." •'You think I am dead," The quick grass said, " Because I have parted with stem and blade ; But under the ground . I am safe and sound With the snow's thick blanket over me laid. I'm all alive, and ready to shoot, Should the spring of the year Come dancing here — But I pity the flower without branch or root." "You think I am dead," A soft voice said, "Because not a branch or root I own!
Seite 405 - APRIL OUTDOORS the white rain coming down Made rivers of the streets in town, And where the snow in patches lay It washed the Winter's signs away. How fast it fell ! How warm it felt ! The icicles began to melt : A silver needle seemed each one Thrust in the furnace of the Sun — The Vulcan Sun who forged them all, In raindrops, crystals round and small The air was filled with tiny ropes On which were strung these April hopes, — White water-beads that searched the ground Until the thirsty seeds...
Seite 360 - Ay, now am I in Arden ; the more fool I : when I was at home, I was in a better place : but travellers must be content.
Seite 79 - The sweet calm sunshine of October, now Warms the low spot ; upon its grassy mould The purple oak-leaf falls ; the birchen bough Drops its bright spoil like arrow-heads of gold.
Seite 327 - To sit in happy indolence, To rest upon the oars, And catch the heavy earthy scents That blow from summer shores ; To see the rounded sun go down, And with its parting fires Light up the windows of the town And burn the tapering spires...

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