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Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
beautiful bell better breath called child close cold comes dark dead dear death dream Duluth earth eyes face fall fathers fear feel feet fire foot forever Freedom gave give glory goes gone grave gray hair hand happy head hear heard heart heaven hill honor hope hour human John knew land laugh leave light lips live look master mean meet mind mother nature never night o'er once passed play poor rest rise river rose round seemed side song soul sound speak spirit stand stood sweet tears tell thee there's thing thou thought tone took tree true turned Twas voice wait waters wave wife wild young
Pāgina 300 - There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it: I have killed many: I have fully glutted my vengeance: for my country I rejoice at the beams of peace. But do not harbour a thought that mine is the joy of fear.
Pāgina 168 - 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...
Pāgina 140 - And he shakes his feeble head, That it seems as if he said, "They are gone." The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has prest In their bloom, And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb.
Pāgina 241 - And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wanton'd with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight; and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
Pāgina 92 - We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow.
Pāgina 50 - 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.
Pāgina 62 - Strike -till the last armed foe expires ; Strike — for your altars and your fires ; Strike — for the green graves of your sires ; God — and your native land...
Pāgina 62 - An hour passed on — the Turk awoke; That bright dream was his last; He woke — to hear his sentries shriek, "To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek!
Pāgina 167 - The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me; Yes! that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.