PoemsFunk & Wagnalls Company, 1898 - 232 strani Realf served during the Civil War, went to San Francisco after some marital troubles, and ended his life there. |
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amid angels army Atlanta campaign awful beauty beloved beneath bitter blessed blood brain breath Brighton brooding brow burning calm child clasp crown dark darling David Swing dead dear death deep doth dreams earth evermore eyes father fear feet fire flame glory God's grave hands Harper's Ferry Hashish hath heart heaven hell holy hopes human hymn John Brown Kansas kiss LABADIE COLLECTION lady lecture letter light lips living love's lyric marriage moan mother never night o'er pain pass passion Pittsburg poems poet poet's Porter County Richard Realf San Francisco shibboleth shining silent singing skies smile solemn song sonnets sorrow soul soul's spirit splendor stand stars stood strange sweet sword Sword Song tears tender thee thine things thought thrill thro throb thunder trembling truth Union army unto voice wait weary wings wrote yearning York York city
Priljubljeni odlomki
Stran 141 - Space is as nothing to spirit, the deed is outdone by the doing; The heart of the wooer is warm, but warmer the heart of the wooing; And up from the pits where these shiver, and up from the heights where those shine, Twin voices and shadows swim starward, and the essence of life is divine.
Stran 140 - ... FAIR are the flowers and the children, but their subtle suggestion is fairer; Rare is the roseburst of dawn, but the secret that clasps it is rarer; Sweet the exultance of song, but the strain that precedes it is sweeter; And never was poem yet writ, but the meaning outmastered the meter.
Stran 21 - Failure" written on his brow. But say that he succeeded. If he missed World's honors, and world's plaudits, and the wage Of the world's deft...
Stran 146 - But we have a secret which doth show us Wonderful rainbows in the rain. And we hear the tread of the years move by, And the sun is setting behind the hills; But my darling does not fear to die, And I am happy in what God wills. So we sit by our household fires together, Dreaming the dreams of long ago: Then it was balmy summer weather, And now the valleys are laid in snow. Icicles hang from the slippery eaves; The wind blows cold, — 'tis growing late; Well, well ! we have garnered all our sheaves,...
Stran 140 - Back of the canvas that throbs, the painter is hinted and hidden; Into the statue that breathes, the soul of the sculptor is bidden; Under the joy that is felt, lie the infinite issues of feeling; Crowning the glory revealed, is the glory that crowns the revealing. Great are the symbols of being, but that which is symboled is greater; Vast the create and beheld, but vaster the inward creator; Back of the sound broods the silence, back of the gift stands the giving; Back of the hand that receives...
Stran cix - O Earth! thou hast not any wind that blows Which is not music: every weed of thine Pressed rightly flows in aromatic wine; And every humble hedgerow flower that grows, And every little brown bird that doth sing, Hath something greater than itself, and bears A living Word to every living thing, Albeit it hold the Message unawares.
Stran cxv - There is no little child within me now, To sing back to the thrushes, to leap up When June winds kiss me, when an apple bough Laughs into blossoms, or a buttercup Plays with the sunshine, or a violet Dances in the glad dew. Alas ! alas ! The meaning of the daisies in the grass I have forgotten ; and if my cheeks are wet It is not with the blitheness of the child, But with the bitter sorrow of sad years.
Stran cxiv - SLAIN THIS sweet child which hath climbed upon my knee, This amber-haired, four-summered little maid, With her unconscious beauty troubleth me, With her low prattle maketh me afraid. Ah, darling ! when you cling and nestle so You hurt me though you do not see me cry, Nor hear the weariness with which I sigh, For the dear babe I killed so long ago. I tremble at the touch of your caress; I am not worthy of your innocent faith; I who with whetted knives of worldliness Did put my own child-heartedness...
Stran 20 - *-"^ For me this end has come and I am dead, And the little voluble, chattering daws of men Peck at me curiously, let it then be said By some one brave enough to speak the truth: Here lies a great soul killed by cruel wrong. Down all the balmy days of his fresh youth To his bleak, desolate noon, with sword and song, And speech that rushed up hotly from the heart, He wrought for liberty, till his own wound (He had been stabbed), concealed with painful art Through wasting years, mastered him, and he...
Stran 145 - And glad tears shone in the daisies' eyes, And the timid violet glistened thanks. Who was with us, and what was round us, Neither myself nor my darling guessed ; Only we knew that something crowned us Out from the heavens with crowns of rest...