The Literary Reader: Typical Selections from Some of the Best British and American Authors from Shakespeare to the Present Time, Chronologically Arranged, with Biographical and Critical Sketches, and Numerous Notes, Etc., Etc
Ivison, Blakeman, Taylor, 1878 - 426 pàgines
Què opinen els usuaris - Escriviu una ressenya
No hem trobat cap ressenya als llocs habituals.
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
The Literary Reader: Typical Selections from the Best British and American ...
George Rhett Cathcart
Visualització completa - 1876
The Literary Reader: Typical Selections from Some of the Best British and ...
George Rhett Cathcart
Visualització completa - 1879
admiration American appeared battle bear beautiful become bells born called character child course death died earth England English entered eyes face fall father feel fire flowers followed gave give hand head heard heart heaven hill honor hope hour human hundred interest Italy kind king knowledge known labor land leaves less light literary literature living look matter mind morning natives nature never night once passed perhaps person poems poet present published received remained rest returned river round seemed seen side soon soul sound spirit stream success thee things thou thought thousand trees turned voice whole wind writer young youth
Pàgina 120 - WHITHER, 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.
Pàgina 65 - Oh! Young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best; And save his good broadsword he weapons had none, He rode all unarmed and he rode all alone. So faithful in love and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
Pàgina 261 - Vex not his ghost — oh ! let him pass — he hates him That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer ! ' Hush ! Strife and Quarrel, over the solemn grave ! Sound, trumpets, a mournful march.
Pàgina 117 - 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.
Pàgina 246 - But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we — Of many far wiser than we — And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea , Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee...
Pàgina 24 - His soul, proud science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk or Milky Way: Yet simple Nature to his hope has given. Behind the cloud-topt hill, an humbler heaven; Some safer world in depth of woods embraced, Some happier island in the watery waste, Where slaves once more their native land behold, No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold. To Be, contents his natural desire; He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire; But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear...
Pàgina 65 - I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied — Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide — And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.
Pàgina 239 - O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O, sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Pàgina 11 - And chiefly Thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer Before all temples the upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for Thou know'st; Thou from the first Wast present, and, -with mighty wings outspread, Dove-like sat'st brooding on the vast Abyss, And mad'st it pregnant...