The Poetical Writings of Fitz-Greene Halleck: With Extracts from Those of Joseph Rodman Drake

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D. Appleton, 1882 - 389 pÓgines
 

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PÓgina 34 - GREEN be the turf above thee, Friend of my better days! None knew thee but to love thee, Nor named thee but to praise. Tears fell, when thou wert dying, From eyes unused to weep, And long where thou art lying, Will tears the cold turf steep. When hearts, whose truth was proven, Like thine, are laid in earth, There should a wreath be woven To tell the world their worth...
PÓgina 16 - Bozzaris ! with the storied brave Greece nurtured in her glory's time Rest thee : there is no prouder grave Even in her own proud clime.
PÓgina 69 - They love their land, because it is their own, And scorn to give aught other reason why ; Would shake hands with a king upon his throne, And think it kindness to his majesty ; A stubborn race, fearing and flattering none.
PÓgina 121 - And a dew was distill'd from their flowers that gave All the fragrance of summer, when summer was gone. Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies, , An essence that breathes of it many a year ; Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes, Is that bower on the banks of the calm Bendemeer...
PÓgina 16 - She wore no funeral weeds for thee, Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume, Like torn branch from death's leafless tree In sorrow's pomp and pageantry, The heartless luxury of the tomb : But she remembers thee as one Long loved, and for a season gone ; For thee her poet's lyre is wreathed, Her marble wrought, her music breathed; For thee she rings the birthday bells ; Of thee her babes...
PÓgina 121 - There's a bower of roses by BENDEMEER'S ' stream, And the nightingale sings round it all the day long ; In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song. That bower and its music I never forget, But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year, I think — is the nightingale singing there yet ? Are the roses still bright by the calm BENDEMEER...
PÓgina 178 - Glance their many-twinkling feet. •Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare: Where'er she turns the Graces homage pay; With arms sublime, that float upon the air, In gliding state she wins her easy way; O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.
PÓgina 15 - But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free, Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word; And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be. Come, when his task of fame is wrought — Come, with her laurel-leaf, blood-bought...
PÓgina 14 - And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, Bozzaris cheer his band: "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...
PÓgina 19 - Th at day its roof was triumph's arch ; Then rang, from aisle to pictured dome, The light step of the soldier's march, The music of the trump and drum ; And babe, and sire, the old, the young, And the monk's hymn, and minstrel's song, And woman's pure kiss, sweet and long, Welcomed her warrior home.

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