Harper's Cyclop©¡dia of British and American PoetryEpes Sargent Harper & Brothers, 1881 - 958ÆäÀÌÁö |
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35 ÆäÀÌÁö
... o'er the day , Another o'er the night , - Thy glory , when the day forth flies , More vively doth appear Than at mid - day unto our eyes The shining sun is clear ! The shadow of the earth anon Removes and drawés by , While in the east ...
... o'er the day , Another o'er the night , - Thy glory , when the day forth flies , More vively doth appear Than at mid - day unto our eyes The shining sun is clear ! The shadow of the earth anon Removes and drawés by , While in the east ...
66 ÆäÀÌÁö
... o'er the sea with me . " Mak ' ready , mak ' ready , my merry men a ' ! Our gude ship sails the morn . " " Now , ever alake ! my master dear , I fear a deadly storm . " I saw the new moon , late yestreen , Wi ' the auld moon in her arm ...
... o'er the sea with me . " Mak ' ready , mak ' ready , my merry men a ' ! Our gude ship sails the morn . " " Now , ever alake ! my master dear , I fear a deadly storm . " I saw the new moon , late yestreen , Wi ' the auld moon in her arm ...
83 ÆäÀÌÁö
... o'er the sea , O. " " And what will ye do wi ' your towers and ha ' , Edward , Edward ? And what will ye do wi ' your towers and ha ' , That were sae fair to see , O ? " " I'll let them stand till they doun fa ' , Mither , mither : I'll ...
... o'er the sea , O. " " And what will ye do wi ' your towers and ha ' , Edward , Edward ? And what will ye do wi ' your towers and ha ' , That were sae fair to see , O ? " " I'll let them stand till they doun fa ' , Mither , mither : I'll ...
133 ÆäÀÌÁö
... o'er a crossing way ; His raiment decent , his complexion fair , And soft in graceful ringlets waved his hair . Then near approaching , " Father , hail ! " he cried ; And " Hail , my son ! " the reverend sire replied . Words followed ...
... o'er a crossing way ; His raiment decent , his complexion fair , And soft in graceful ringlets waved his hair . Then near approaching , " Father , hail ! " he cried ; And " Hail , my son ! " the reverend sire replied . Words followed ...
140 ÆäÀÌÁö
... o'er , And then I'll leave thee and Lochaber no more . Anne , Countess of Winchelsea . Daughter of Sir Richard Kingsmill , and wife of Hene- age , Earl of Winchelsea , this lady ( circa 1660-1720 ) pub- lished a volume of poems in 1713 ...
... o'er , And then I'll leave thee and Lochaber no more . Anne , Countess of Winchelsea . Daughter of Sir Richard Kingsmill , and wife of Hene- age , Earl of Winchelsea , this lady ( circa 1660-1720 ) pub- lished a volume of poems in 1713 ...
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beauty Ben Jonson beneath Binnorie birds blessed bonny born breast breath bright brow busk Charles Lamb charms Chevy Chase clouds dark dead dear death deep delight divine doth dream earth eternal eyes fair fame father fear flowers frae glory grace green grief Grongar Hill hame hand happy hast hath Hazelgreen hear heart heaven heir of Linne hope hour immortal king kiss land lassie leave light live look Lord Lycidas mind morning mortal native Nature's ne'er never night numbers Nut-brown Maide o'er pain pleasure poem poet praise Robin Hood rose round Scotland shade shine sigh sing Sir Patrick Spens sleep smile song sonnets sorrow soul sound spirit stars Stutly sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought Twas verse voice waves weep wild wind wings wrote Yarrow young youth
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99 ÆäÀÌÁö - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide, ' Doth God exact day-labor, light denied ?
413 ÆäÀÌÁö - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning.
664 ÆäÀÌÁö - art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!
664 ÆäÀÌÁö - Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as
183 ÆäÀÌÁö - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
290 ÆäÀÌÁö - Nor Man nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy ! Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
310 ÆäÀÌÁö - And now the storm-blast came, and he Was tyrannous and strong: He struck with his o'ertaking wings, And chased us south along. With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, And forward bends his head, The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, And southward aye we fled.
414 ÆäÀÌÁö - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
653 ÆäÀÌÁö - And burst the cannon's roar; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, And waves were white below, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee; — The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea!
663 ÆäÀÌÁö - Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow— sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Nameless here for evermore.