The Gift Book of GemsDavid Bugbee & Company, 1856 - 312 pages |
From inside the book
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Page vii
... woods are found , Our fondest memories start from sleep , Aroused by thy dear sound . Come , let me strike thy chords once more , And , while my fingers o'er them roam , Return the strain beloved of yore , And murmur , Harp , of Home ...
... woods are found , Our fondest memories start from sleep , Aroused by thy dear sound . Come , let me strike thy chords once more , And , while my fingers o'er them roam , Return the strain beloved of yore , And murmur , Harp , of Home ...
Page 42
... wood , and the sheen of the river , - The cloud and the open sky- He will haunt them all with his subtle quiver , Like the light of your very eye . The fisher hangs over the leaning boat , And ponders 42 NATHANIEL P. WILLIS . The Annoyer,
... wood , and the sheen of the river , - The cloud and the open sky- He will haunt them all with his subtle quiver , Like the light of your very eye . The fisher hangs over the leaning boat , And ponders 42 NATHANIEL P. WILLIS . The Annoyer,
Page 48
... wood and glen , Thy lot , like mine , is cast with men ; And daily , with unwilling fect , . I tread , like thee , the crowded street ; But , unlike me , when day is o'er , Thou canst dismiss the world and soar , Or , at a half - felt ...
... wood and glen , Thy lot , like mine , is cast with men ; And daily , with unwilling fect , . I tread , like thee , the crowded street ; But , unlike me , when day is o'er , Thou canst dismiss the world and soar , Or , at a half - felt ...
Page 64
... woods , as now , O'ershadow me at noontide ; and the sweet Breathings of virgin violets , as pure as thou , No purer , from dim moss - banks of the hill - side greet Me in the weary wanderings , ' mid the trees . Of mine own father ...
... woods , as now , O'ershadow me at noontide ; and the sweet Breathings of virgin violets , as pure as thou , No purer , from dim moss - banks of the hill - side greet Me in the weary wanderings , ' mid the trees . Of mine own father ...
Page 82
... woods , and there in silence knelt On the sharp flint - stone in the rayless gloom , And fervently he prayed to find an early tomb . Weep not for him : he asks no sympathy From human hearts and eyes ; aloof , alone , On his own spirit ...
... woods , and there in silence knelt On the sharp flint - stone in the rayless gloom , And fervently he prayed to find an early tomb . Weep not for him : he asks no sympathy From human hearts and eyes ; aloof , alone , On his own spirit ...
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Common terms and phrases
amid Bangor Battle of Niagara beautiful beneath birds bless bloom born Bowdoin College breast breath bright brow clouds cold dark dead dear death deep dream earth ELIZABETH OAKES PRINCE Farewell Flagg flowers gaze gentle glory gone grave hast hath hear heart heaven HENRY W hopes hour hymn HYPOLITO Ianthe Idlewild immortal JOHN NEAL Kennebec County land life's light lingering lips literary lone LONGFELLOW look look'd Lovejoy MELLEN MELVILLE WESTON FULLER morning mournful native neath never night o'er pass'd poems poet poetry Portland Portland Tribune prayer Prentiss Mellen published round SEBA SMITH shade shadows shine shore sigh sing skies sleep smile Smith song sorrow soul sound spirit star storm stream summer sunbright sweet tears tell thine Thou art thought of thee tree trembling Twas voice wave weary weep wild wind wing youth
Popular passages
Page 22 - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended But one dead lamb is there ! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair ! The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead ; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted...
Page 25 - THE shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, Excelsior ! His brow was sad ; his eye beneath, Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, Excelsior! In happy homes he saw the light Of household fires gleam warm and bright; Above, the spectral glaciers shone, And from his lips escaped a groan, Excelsior! "Try not the Pass!
Page 14 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Page 28 - THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary ; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary.
Page 2 - Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! Sail on, O UNION, strong and great ! Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate...
Page 26 - ... Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, A voice cried through the startled air Excelsior ! A traveller, by the faithful hound, Half-buried in the snow was found, Still grasping in his hand of ice That banner with the strange device Excelsior ! There in the twilight cold and gray, Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay, And from the sky, serene and far, A voice fell, like a falling star, Excelsior ! POEMS ON SLAVERY.
Page 18 - I HAVE read, in some old marvellous tale, Some legend strange and vague, That a midnight host of spectres pale Beleaguered the walls of Prague. Beside the Moldau's rushing stream, With the wan moon overhead, There stood, as in an awful dream, The army of the dead.
Page 20 - ALL houses wherein men have lived and died Are haunted houses. Through the open doors The harmless phantoms on their errands glide, With feet that make no sound upon the floors. We meet them at the doorway, on the stair, Along the passages they come and go, Impalpable impressions on the air, A sense of something moving to and fro. There are more guests at table than the hosts Invited ; the illuminated hall Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts, As silent as the pictures on the wall.
Page 19 - I have read, in the marvellous heart of man, That strange and mystic scroll, That an army of phantoms, vast and wan, Beleaguer the human soul. Encamped beside Life's rushing stream, In Fancy's misty light, Gigantic shapes and shadows gleam Portentous through the night. Upon its midnight battle-ground The spectral camp is seen, And, with a sorrowful, deep sound, Flows the River of Life between. No other voice, nor sound is there, In the army of the grave ; No other challenge breaks the air, But the...
Page 24 - We will be patient, and assuage the feeling We may not wholly stay ; By silence sanctifying, not concealing, The grief that must have way THE BUILDERS.