Acadian ANNABEL LEE arms beat beauty bells beneath bird blow breast breath Camelot chee cheek cloud dark dead dear death deep door dream earth Evangeline evermore Excalibur eyes face fair fear feet flowers friends gleaming golden gone grave hand hath head hear heard heart heaven Itylus Ivy green King King Arthur Lady of Shalott land laugh leaves light lips live Locksley Hall look Lord maiden marshes of Glynn Maud meadows moon morning never night o'er Pioneers prayer quoth Quoth the Raven Ravelston rest rose round sail shadow shining ships shore Sidney Lanier sigh silent sing Sir Bedivere sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spirit stars stood strong sweet tears thee thine things thou thought thro unto Vext village voice wave weary whisper wild wind wonder word youth
الصفحة 1276 - ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore — While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. ' 'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, ' tapping at my chamber door — Only this and nothing more.
الصفحة 1317 - Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way ; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. » In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle ; Be a hero in the strife ! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! Let the dead Past bury its dead ! Act, — act...
الصفحة 1155 - One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, Never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, Sleep to wake.
الصفحة 1261 - Requiem Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill.
الصفحة 1003 - THE splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story : The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear ! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going ! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing ! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying : Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O love, they...
الصفحة 1343 - Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State ! Sail on, O UNION, strong and great! Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! We know what Master laid thy keel, What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope ! Fear not each sudden sound and shock, Tis of the wave and not the rock ; Tis but the flapping of the sail,...
الصفحة 1442 - Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, Child of the wandering sea, Cast from her lap forlorn! From thy dead lips a clearer note is born Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn! While on mine ear it rings, Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings: Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, As the swift seasons roll! Leave thy low-vaulted past! Let each new temple, nobler than the last, Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, Till thou at length art free, Leaving...
الصفحة 1290 - But we loved with a love that was more than love I and my ANNABEL LEE — With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Coveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea...
الصفحة 1008 - As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains: but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself, And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the scepter and the isle — Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil...