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beautiful bells bird bloom blow blue breath bright bring comes Copyright dark dead dear death deep dream dust earth ELLA WHEELER WILCOX eyes face fall fear feel feet fields fire flowers follow give glad gold golden grave gray green grow hand happy hath hear heart heaven Henry hills hope hour John keep land leaves light lips live look lost Maryland moon morning never night o'er once pain pass Pioneers poems poet rain rest rise Robert roll rose round sail shadows silence sing sleep song soul sound spring stars strong summer sweet thee things thou thought tide touch trees turn voice wait wake wandering waves Whitman wild wind wings woods young youth
Seite 164 - He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat; He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat; Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant my feet! Our God is marching on.
Seite 98 - While life's dark maze I tread, And griefs around me spread, Be Thou my guide ; Bid darkness turn to day, Wipe sorrow's tears away, Nor let me ever stray From Thee aside.
Seite 105 - What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon ! Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells ! How it swells ; How it dwells On the Future! how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells— To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
Seite 226 - Till the sun grows cold, And the stars are old, And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold...
Seite 74 - 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 101 - Up many and many a marvellous shrine Whose wreathed friezes intertwine The viol, the violet, and the vine. Resignedly beneath the sky The melancholy waters lie. So blend the turrets and shadows there That all seem pendulous in air, While from a proud tower in the town Death looks gigantically down.
Seite 110 - THE skies they were ashen and sober; The leaves they were crisped and sere, The leaves they were withering and sere; It was night in the lonesome October Of my most immemorial year ; It was hard by the dim lake of Auber, In the misty mid region of Weir: It was down by the dank tarn of Auber, In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.
Seite 31 - IF the red slayer think he slays, Or if the slain think he is slain, , , They know not well the subtle ways I keep, and pass, and turn again.
Seite 12 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, which moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.