A Library of American Literature from the Earliest Settlement to the Present Time: Literature of the republic, pt. 3, 1835-1860Edmund Clarence Stedman, Ellen Mackay Hutchinson, Mrs. Ellen Mackay Hutchinson Cortissoz W. E. Benjamin, 1894 |
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... Heart's Song VINCENZO BOTTA Cavour the Statesman THOMAS HILL . The Bobolink JOHN WEISS . Humor ¡¤ PAGE 319 321 322 323 327 328 328 336 337 343 345 346 348 350 353 354 355 357 358 • 360 364 366 367 368 369 370 372 WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING ...
... Heart's Song VINCENZO BOTTA Cavour the Statesman THOMAS HILL . The Bobolink JOHN WEISS . Humor ¡¤ PAGE 319 321 322 323 327 328 328 336 337 343 345 346 348 350 353 354 355 357 358 • 360 364 366 367 368 369 370 372 WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING ...
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... heart to the Latin tutor , was a plain old Eng- lish one , and her water - name was Hannah , beautiful as recalling the mother of Samuel , and admirable as reading equally well from the initial letter forwards and from the terminal ...
... heart to the Latin tutor , was a plain old Eng- lish one , and her water - name was Hannah , beautiful as recalling the mother of Samuel , and admirable as reading equally well from the initial letter forwards and from the terminal ...
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... heart full of tearful recollections and strange doubts and questions , alternating with the cheap pleasures which are the anodynes of childish grief ; such were the treasures she inherited .-- No , -I forgot . With that kindly sentiment ...
... heart full of tearful recollections and strange doubts and questions , alternating with the cheap pleasures which are the anodynes of childish grief ; such were the treasures she inherited .-- No , -I forgot . With that kindly sentiment ...
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... heart . No rest that throbbing slave may ask , Forever quivering o'er his task , While far and wide a crimson jet Leaps forth to fill the woven net Which in unnumbered crossing tides The flood of burning life divides , Then , kindling ...
... heart . No rest that throbbing slave may ask , Forever quivering o'er his task , While far and wide a crimson jet Leaps forth to fill the woven net Which in unnumbered crossing tides The flood of burning life divides , Then , kindling ...
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... founded on force , may develop and cultivate the tenderest and purest sentiments of the human heart . And our patriarchal scheme of domestic servitude 38 [ 1835-60 JAMES HENRY HAMMOND . The Patriarchal System vs White Slavery.
... founded on force , may develop and cultivate the tenderest and purest sentiments of the human heart . And our patriarchal scheme of domestic servitude 38 [ 1835-60 JAMES HENRY HAMMOND . The Patriarchal System vs White Slavery.
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abolitionists asked beauty better BORN called Charles Sumner child Christian Christopher Pearse Cranch Church Colonel Deacon death DIED divine earth Europe eyes face faith father fear feel folks force FRANCES SARGENT OSGOOD friends genius give hand head hear heard heart heaven HORACE GREELEY hour Huldy human hundred intellectual Jack Cade James Henry Hammond Jefferson Davis JOHN WILLIAM DRAPER Kansas kind labor lady liberty light living look Mariamne Mas'r Mass mind moral mother nature never night nothin once party Peckham political poor round sail Saladin seemed Senator sing slave Slave Power slavery soul spirit Sprowle stand Stone Fleet stood sweet tell thee things thou thought tion took truth turned voice walked words wuzzled young
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3 ÆäÀÌÁö - AY, tear her tattered ensign down! -£^- Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky; Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar;— The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more! Her deck, once red with heroes...
29 ÆäÀÌÁö - This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, Sails the unshadowed main, — The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings, And coral reefs lie bare, Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.
510 ÆäÀÌÁö - O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain!
490 ÆäÀÌÁö - His truth is marching on. I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps; I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps His day is marching on. I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel; "As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal; Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, Since God is marching on.
434 ÆäÀÌÁö - THE snow had begun in the gloaming, And busily all the night Had been heaping field and highway With a silence deep and white. Every pine and fir and hemlock Wore ermine too dear for an earl, And the poorest twig on the elm-tree Was ridged inch deep with pearl.
548 ÆäÀÌÁö - The muffled drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo; No more on life's parade shall meet That brave and fallen few. On Fame's eternal camping ground * Their silent tents are spread, And Glory guards, with solemn round, The bivouac of the dead.
502 ÆäÀÌÁö - A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
503 ÆäÀÌÁö - What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and children? They are alive and well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death...
415 ÆäÀÌÁö - The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined being o'errun With the deluge of summer it receives; His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings; He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest, — In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best...
503 ÆäÀÌÁö - I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul, The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me, The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into a new tongue.