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Abraham Lincoln Alfred Tennyson Alice Cary angel Author not known barefoot boy beautiful bird blow bob-o'-link brave bright brown thrush Bryant chee child cloud cold coming dark David Starr Jordan dead dear death dream earth eyes fear feet flag flowers forever glory gold hand hath hear heart heaven hold in fee J. G. Holland James Whitcomb Riley Joaquin Miller land Liberty light live Longfellow look Lord Lucy Larcom man's son inherit Memorizing merry moon morning nest never night o'er Oliver Wendell Holmes on!sail Phoebe Cary poems rain rest Ring roar Robert of Lincoln rock sail Shakespeare shining sings sleep smile song somewhere soul Spink stars storm sunshine Sweet baby Tennyson thee There's thine things thou thought toil tree truth union voice wait wave wild William Cullen Bryant wind woods
Página 127 - Tis of the wave and not the rock; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale! In spite of rock and tempest roar, In spite of false lights on the shore, Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee...
Página 47 - I wind about, and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout, And here and there a grayling, And here and there a foamy flake Upon me as I travel, With many a silvery waterbreak Above the golden gravel, And draw them all along and flow To join the brimming river, For men may come, and men may go, But I go on forever.
Página 128 - Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea...
Página 99 - Come, read to me some poem, Some simple and heartfelt lay, That shall soothe this restless feeling, And banish the thoughts of day. Not from the grand old masters, Not from the bards sublime, Whose distant footsteps echo Through the corridors of Time.
Página 148 - All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.
Página 101 - The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has prest In their bloom, And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb.
Página 125 - We look before and after And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Página 151 - 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...
Página 146 - TO him who in the love of nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.