The Poetical Works of William Cullen BryantD. Appleton, 1903 - 418 من الصفحات |
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amid autumn Battle of Bennington beauty behold beneath bird bloom blossoms blue boughs breath bright brook brow calm Calypso clouds Cummington dark death deep didst dost dream dwell earth eyes fair fear fields flowers forest gathered gaze gentle glad glorious glory Godwin's Graham's Magazine grass grave green hand hear heart heaven hills hour Hymn land leaves light Literary Gazette look maid maiden mighty morning mountains murmur night North American Review o'er pass path Pitcairn's Island pleasant poems published R. H. Dana rill river Rizpah rock round shade shadow shalt shining shore sight silent sleep smile snow soft song sorrow sound spring stars stream summer sunshine sweet tears Thanatopsis thee thine thou art trees vale voice walk wandering waters waves William Cullen Bryant wind woods written in Roslyn York York Ledger York Mirror youth
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الصفحة 26 - 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 seen against the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
الصفحة lxxx - 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.
الصفحة 79 - THE groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above them — ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems ; in the darkling wood, Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down, And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And supplication.
الصفحة 20 - Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings...
الصفحة xvi - Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven Hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart Deeply hath 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.
الصفحة lxxx - All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.
الصفحة 230 - Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink ; Nobody knows but my mate and I Where our nest and our nestlings lie. Chee, chee, chee. Summer wanes ; the children are grown ; Fun and frolic no more he knows ; Robert of Lincoln's a humdrum crone ; Off he flies, and we sing as he goes ; Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink ; When you can pipe that merry old strain, Robert of Lincoln, come back again. Chee, chee, chee.
الصفحة 81 - Written on thy works I read The lesson of thy own eternity. Lo! all grow old and die; but see again, How on the faltering footsteps of decay Youth presses, — ever gay and beautiful youth In all its beautiful forms.
الصفحة 23 - Shall one by one be gathered to thy side, By those, who in their turn shall follow them. So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, which moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
الصفحة 20 - 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 gentle sympathy that steals away Their sharpness ere he is aware.