 | Samuel Kettell - 1829 - 432 strani
...of heaven, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread Are shining on the sad abodes of death, The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.—Take the wings Of morning—and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous... | |
 | George Barrell Cheever - 1830 - 516 strani
...of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber...lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings — yet — the dead are there, And millions in those... | |
 | J. M. Putnam - 1831 - 174 strani
...pierce, Or loose thyself in the contmuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save Iiis own dashings, — yet the dead are there, And millions...in those solitudes, since first The flight of years bega*u, hare laid them down In their last sleep ; the dead reign there alone. So shalt them rest—... | |
 | 1832 - 604 strani
...host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber...lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began,... | |
 | Charlotte Fiske Bates - 1832 - 1022 strani
...of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber In its bosom. — Take the wings Of morning, traverse Barca's desert sands, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and... | |
 | 1832 - 606 strani
...lapse of ages. All that tread The glohe are hut a handful to the trihes That slumher in its hosom. Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods W here rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound Save his own dashings ; yet the dead are there, And millious... | |
 | Robert Walsh, Eliakim Littell, John Jay Smith - 1832 - 648 strani
...host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death Through ihe still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Take the winfs Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls... | |
 | Bela Bates Edwards - 1833 - 892 strani
...of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber...lose thyself in the continuous woods "Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings — yet — the dead are there ; And millions in... | |
 | 1834 - 406 strani
...heaven, Are shining on the ad abodes of death, • Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe, are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings Of morning, and the Barean desert pieree ; Or lose thyself in the eontinuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no... | |
 | 1834 - 440 strani
...of heaven, Through the still lapse of apes. All that tread Are shining on the sad abodes of death, The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.—Take the wings Of morning—and the Barcan desert pierce, Where rolls the Orogon, and hears... | |
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Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread... 
