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accented admiration Allen-a-Dale anapestic angel Annabel Lee auld lang syne beauty bird blow Bob-o'-link breathe bright charm chee cloud dark death deep dost doth dream earth EDGAR ALLAN POE emotion eyes fate Fausta feel feet flow flowers foot golden happy hath hear heart heaven HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW hill honor iambic iambic pentameter inspiration JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL JOHN DRYDEN JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER language light live Longfellow look Lord lyric melody meter nest never night o'er pain penseroso pleasure poem poet poetry purple quiet rhyme ROBERT BURNS shade sing smile song sorrow soul sound Spink spirit stanza stars stream sung sweet syllables tears Tennyson thee thine things thou art thought verse voice wandering weary weeping WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings woods words
Página 61 - TO HELEN. Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
Página 92 - Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire ; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. In the golden lightning « Of the sunken sun, O'er which clouds are bright'ning, Thou dost float and run ; Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.
Página 173 - Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new. Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.
Página 126 - WHITHER, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Página 60 - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
Página 95 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain ? What fields, or waves, or mountains ? What shapes of sky or plain ? What love of thine own kind ? what ignorance of pain ? ©de to a With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be: Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee : Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
Página 67 - I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love ! Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace; Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last! Ayr gurgling kissed his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning, green ; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twin'd amorous round the raptured scene.
Página 24 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread — Stitch — stitch — stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, — Would that its tone could reach the Rich ! She sang this " Song of the Shirt !
Página 50 - Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me ; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
Página 175 - Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides. Will no one tell me what she sings? — Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?