Thanatopsis, Sella, and Other PoemsMacmillan Company, 1911 - 238 strani |
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amid ancient apple-tree beautiful beneath bird bloom blue Bob-o'-link boughs breath bright brook calm chee Childe Harold's Pilgrimage clouds cold dance dark deep dream dwell earth Edited eyes fair flake flowers forest gaze gentle glad glide glistening glorious glory grass grave green groves hand haunts heart heaven hills hour Hymn to Death Iliad Julius Cæsar Knight's Tale lake land light LITTELL's Living Age look maiden mighty Monument Mountain mould murmur never night o'er Palgrave's Golden Treasury pass Phillips Exeter Academy Poems poet race rivers rock round savannas Sella shade Shakespeare's sight silent Sir Launfal sleep smile snow soft song sound Spink spring stars stream strong summer sweet Thanatopsis thee thine thou dost thou hast thou shalt trees vale voice wandering waters wild WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT wind wind-flower winter woods Yellow Violet youth ΙΟ
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Stran 2 - Yet a few days and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground, Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again...
Stran 227 - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, And monarchs tremble in their capitals; The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war ; These are thy toys ; and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
Stran 2 - Thou shalt lie down With patriarchs of the infant world — with kings, The powerful of the earth — the wise, the good, Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, All in one mighty sepulchre.
Stran 67 - Alas! they all are in their graves, the gentle race of flowers Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours. The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold November rain Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.
Stran 2 - All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.
Stran 3 - Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there ! And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep — the dead reign there alone.
Stran 1 - 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.
Stran 60 - Father, Thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns. Thou Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down Upon the naked earth, and forthwith rose All these fair ranks of trees.
Stran 68 - But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood, And the yellow sun-flower by the brook in autumn beauty stood, Till fell the frost from the clear, cold heaven, as falls the plague on men, And the brightness of their smile was gone from upland, glade and glen. And now, when comes the calm, mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home! When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still: And twinkle in the smoky...
Stran 67 - THE melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead ; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread ; The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay, And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.