Naya: A Story of the Bighorn Country |
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answered arms Arthur asked baby beautiful began better blue brown Buffalo called camp caught child close covered dark dear deep door Dougal eyes face fall father feet fell fire flowers followed gave give gone grandmother ground hair half hand Hannah head heard heart hills horses hunt Indian kind knew lake laughing leave light looked miles morning mother mountains Naya Naya's never night once passed Pigeon plain ranch returned river rose seemed seen shadow side silent sitting slipped smile snow soon speak Spirit spring Stone strange sudden suddenly sure Sweet Grass tears tell things thou thought touched trail tree turned voice watched wild William wind wonder young
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322 ÆäÀÌÁö - Now the day is over, Night is drawing nigh, Shadows of the evening Steal across the sky.
1 ÆäÀÌÁö - Away in Beauty's Bloom OH! snatch'd away in beauty's bloom, On thee shall press no ponderous tomb; But on thy turf shall roses rear Their leaves, the earliest of the year; And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom: And oft by yon blue gushing stream Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head, And feed deep thought with many a dream, And lingering pause and lightly tread: Fond wretch! as if her step disturb'd the dead!
266 ÆäÀÌÁö - Reigns that which would be fear'd : 'tis much he dares ; And, to that dauntless temper of his mind, He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour To act in safety.
75 ÆäÀÌÁö - They waste us — ay — like April snow In the warm noon, we shrink away ; And fast they follow, as we go Toward the setting day — Till they shall fill the land, and we Are driven into the Western sea.
213 ÆäÀÌÁö - Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now withering on the ground ; Another race the following spring supplies, They fall successive, and successive rise: So generations in their course decay, So flourish these, when those are past away.
172 ÆäÀÌÁö - When daisies pied, and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue, Do paint the meadows with delight...
324 ÆäÀÌÁö - Ye! who have traced the Pilgrim to the scene Which is his last, if in your memories dwell A thought which once was his, if on ye swell A single recollection, not in vain He wore his sandal-shoon and scallop-shell; Farewell!
139 ÆäÀÌÁö - We ring the bells and we raise the strain. We hang up garlands everywhere And bid the tapers twinkle fair, And feast and frolic — and then we go Back to the same old lives again.
95 ÆäÀÌÁö - I thought at first the goblin-laugher stood at my bedside - or rather, crouched by my pillow: but I rose, looked round, and could see nothing; while, as I still gazed, the unnatural sound was reiterated: and I knew it came from behind the panels.
40 ÆäÀÌÁö - Which wanders through the waste air's pathless blue To nourish some far desert; she did seem Beside me, gathering beauty as she grew, Like the bright shade of some immortal dream, Which walks when tempest sleeps the wave of life's dark stream.