The Poems, Sacred, Passionate and HumorousClark & Maynard, 1866 - 14 Seiten |
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The Poems, Sacred, Passionate, and Humorous, of Nathaniel Parker Willis Nathaniel Parker Willis Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2016 |
The Poems, Sacred, Passionate, and Humorous, of Nathaniel Parker Willis Nathaniel Parker Willis Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2016 |
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Absalom angel beautiful beneath bird bless blue bosom breast breath bright broken brow call'd calm cheek cherub child cloud cold dark dear death dream dream Angelic earth face fair feel feet fire flowers flung fountain gather'd gazed gentle glory hand hast thou hath hear heart heaven Helon hour ISIDORE Jerusalem Jesus Jules Khorat knew Lady Jane leaves light lips look look'd LORD IVON mislea morning mother Mount Arafat NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS night o'er Parrhasius pass'd pity Pleiades poet pray pray'd prayer press'd pride pulse Rizpah rose seem'd shadows silent sleep slept smile soft soft eye soul spirit star star by star stirr'd stole stood sweet sweet child tears thine thing thou hast thought of thee touch'd tree trembling turn'd Twas voice walk'd warm waters weary whisper wild wind wings word YALE COLLEGE young
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 47 - Tis hard to give thee up, With death so like a gentle slumber on thee ; — And thy dark sin ! — Oh ! I could drink the cup, If from this woe its bitterness had won thee. May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home, My lost boy, Absalom...
Seite 73 - And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them, and said ; Verily I say unto you, except ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.
Seite 46 - The king stood still Till the last echo died; then, throwing off The sackcloth from his brow, and laying back The pall from the still features of his child, He bowed his head upon him, and broke forth In the resistless eloquence of woe: "Alas, my noble boy, that thou shouldst die!
Seite 107 - I LOVE to look on a scene like this, Of wild and careless play, And persuade myself that I am not old, And my locks are not yet gray...
Seite 25 - And pass not thou between The weary traveller and the cooling breeze, And lie not down to sleep beneath the trees Where human tracks are seen ; Nor milk the goat that browseth on the plain, Nor pluck the standing corn, or yellow grain. " And now depart ! and when Thy heart is heavy, and thine eyes are dim, Lift up thy prayer beseechingly to Him, Who, from the tribes of men, Selected thee to feel his chastening rod — Depart, 0 leper ! and forget not God...
Seite 104 - Thou alone of the feather'd race Dost look unscared on the human face ; Thou alone, with a wing to flee, Dost love with man in his haunts to be ; And the "gentle dove" Has become a name for trust and love.
Seite 107 - Or, rising half in his rounded nest, He takes the time to smooth his breast ; Then drops again, with filmed eyes. And sleeps as the last vibration dies. Sweet bird ! I would that I could be A hermit in the crowd like thee ! With wings to fly to wood and glen, Thy lot, like mine, is cast with men ; And daily, with unwilling feet, I tread, like thee, the crowded street ; But, unlike me, when day is o'er, Thou canst dismiss the world, and soar ; Or, at a half-felt wish for rest, Canst smooth the feathers...
Seite 208 - I can give not what men call love, But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And the Heavens reject not, The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow...
Seite 73 - Then were there brought unto him little children, that he should put his hands on them, and pray : and the disciples rebuked them. But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me : for of such is the kingdom of heaven.
Seite 44 - THE waters slept. Night's silvery veil hung low On Jordan's bosom, and the eddies curled Their glassy rings beneath it, like the still, Unbroken beating of the sleeper's pulse. The reeds bent down the stream : the willow leaves, With a soft cheek upon the lulling tide, Forgot the lifting winds ; and the long stems, Whose flowers the water, like a gentle nurse Bears on its bosom, quietly gave way, And leaned, in graceful attitudes, to rest.