Poems, Volume 1 |
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Page 42
... they , whose meadows it murmurs through , Have named the stream from its own fair hue . Yet pure its waters - its shallows are bright With colored pebbles and sparkles of light , And clear the depths where its eddies play , And Green River.
... they , whose meadows it murmurs through , Have named the stream from its own fair hue . Yet pure its waters - its shallows are bright With colored pebbles and sparkles of light , And clear the depths where its eddies play , And Green River.
Page 44
... murmur and fairy shout , From dawn to the blush of another day , Like traveller singing along his way . That fairy music I never hear , Nor gaze on those waters so green and clear , And mark them winding away from sight , Darkened with ...
... murmur and fairy shout , From dawn to the blush of another day , Like traveller singing along his way . That fairy music I never hear , Nor gaze on those waters so green and clear , And mark them winding away from sight , Darkened with ...
Page 56
William Cullen Bryant. Ah ! thou art like our wayward race ; — When not a shade of pain or ill Dims the bright smile of Nature's face , Thou lov'st to sigh and murmur still . THE BURIAL - PLACE . A FRAGMENT . EREWHILE , 56 POEMS .
William Cullen Bryant. Ah ! thou art like our wayward race ; — When not a shade of pain or ill Dims the bright smile of Nature's face , Thou lov'st to sigh and murmur still . THE BURIAL - PLACE . A FRAGMENT . EREWHILE , 56 POEMS .
Page 116
... murmur of the bee , Settling on the sick flowers , and then again Instantly on the wing . The plants around Feel the too potent fervors ; the tall maize Rolls up its long green leaves ; the clover droops Its tender foliage , and ...
... murmur of the bee , Settling on the sick flowers , and then again Instantly on the wing . The plants around Feel the too potent fervors ; the tall maize Rolls up its long green leaves ; the clover droops Its tender foliage , and ...
Page 131
... murmurs . But the scene Is lovely round ; a beautiful river there Wanders amid the fresh and fertile meads , The paradise he made unto himself , Mining the soil for ages . On each side The fields swell upward to the hills ; beyond ...
... murmurs . But the scene Is lovely round ; a beautiful river there Wanders amid the fresh and fertile meads , The paradise he made unto himself , Mining the soil for ages . On each side The fields swell upward to the hills ; beyond ...
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ages amid beam beauty beneath bird blood bloom blossoms blue boughs breath bright brook calm CHRE clouds cold dark Day of Fire day-dawn Deadly assassin death deep dwell earth fair flowers forest frown gaze gentle glad glen glides glorious glory grave Greece green groves guilt hand hath hear hear my song heart heaven hills hour hues hymn insect wings land leaves light little hour look lovely stream maid maiden maize Maquon mighty mountain murmur night o'er pass path peace pleasant pure quiet race realm rill Rizpah rocks round scene shade shalt thou shine sight silent skies smile soft song sparkles of light spirit Stockbridge stream summer sunny sweet tears thee thine thou art thou dost Thou shalt trees tribes vale valley stream voice wander weep wild wind-flower winds wings woods youth youthful voices
Popular passages
Page 25 - 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.
Page 28 - So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw In silence from the living, and no friend Take note of thy departure? All that breathe Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favourite phantom; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come And make their bed with thee.
Page 39 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Page 207 - Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood ? 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.
Page 29 - When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favorite phantom ; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come And make their bed with thee. As the long train Of ages...
Page 41 - Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven Hath swallowed up thy form ; yet, on my heart Deeply has sunk the lesson thou hast given, And shall not soon depart. He who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, Will lead my steps aright.
Page 173 - 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.
Page 106 - Ah, passing few are they who speak, Wild stormy month ! in praise of thee ; Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak, Thou art a welcome month to me. For thou, to northern lands again, The glad and glorious sun dost bring, And thou hast joined the gentle train And wear'st the gentle name of Spring. And, in thy reign of blast and storm, Smiles many a long, bright, sunny day, When the changed winds are soft and warm, And heaven puts on the blue of May.
Page 62 - There is a day of sunny rest For every dark and troubled night ; And grief may bide an evening guest, But joy shall come with early light.
Page 185 - But if, around my place of sleep, The friends I love should come to weep, They might not haste to go. Soft airs, and song, and light, and bloom, Should keep them lingering by my tomb.