The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth LongfellowHoughton, Mifflin and Company, 1883 - 492 páginas |
Contenido
1 | |
11 | |
25 | |
36 | |
44 | |
76 | |
86 | |
91 | |
211 | |
228 | |
246 | |
272 | |
292 | |
317 | |
336 | |
352 | |
121 | |
141 | |
149 | |
151 | |
154 | |
156 | |
157 | |
159 | |
162 | |
164 | |
167 | |
170 | |
172 | |
174 | |
176 | |
178 | |
182 | |
183 | |
185 | |
186 | |
189 | |
191 | |
193 | |
195 | |
198 | |
200 | |
202 | |
205 | |
207 | |
209 | |
358 | |
364 | |
372 | |
386 | |
399 | |
402 | |
408 | |
412 | |
434 | |
435 | |
436 | |
440 | |
445 | |
447 | |
449 | |
450 | |
454 | |
455 | |
457 | |
462 | |
464 | |
466 | |
469 | |
485 | |
489 | |
490 | |
491 | |
492 | |
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Términos y frases comunes
Acadian answered beautiful behold beneath birds breath bright brooklet Charlemagne Chispa cloud cried Dacotahs dark dead death door dreams earth EPIMETHEUS eyes face fair feet fire flowers forest gleam golden guests Gypsy hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven HEPHÆSTUS Hiawatha holy JULIA Kenabeek King Olaf land Lara Laughing Laughing Water leaves light listen living look loud maiden meadow MICHAEL ANGELO Miles Standish mist Mondamin moon morning never night Nokomis o'er Osseo PANDORA passed Pau-Puk-Keewis pray Prec river rose round rushing sails sang shadow shining Sigrid the Haughty silent singing sleep smile snow song Song of Hiawatha sorrow soul sound spake speak stars stood sunshine sweet tale Tharaw thee thine thou art thought unto Vict village VITTORIA VITTORIA COLONNA voice wait walls wampum wander whispered wigwam wild wind words youth
Pasajes populares
Página 36 - Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught ! Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought ; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought ! ENDYMION.
Página 2 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Página 79 - Down the dark future, through long generations, The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease ; And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, I hear once more the voice of Christ say, " Peace ! " Peace ! and no longer from its brazen portals The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies ! But beautiful as songs of the immortals, The holy melodies of love arise.
Página 212 - The heights by great men reached and kept \ ¡ Were not attained by sudden flight, '. But they, while their companions slept, Were toiling upward in the night. Standing on what too long we bore With shoulders bent and downcast eyes, We may discern — unseen before A path to higher destinies. Nor deem the irrevocable Past, As wholly wasted, wholly vain, If, rising on its wrecks, at last To something nobler we attain.
Página 219 - I remember the gleams and glooms that dart Across the school-boy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, That in part are prophecies, and in part Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.
Página 25 - SPEAK ! speak ! thou fearful guest ! Who, with thy hollow breast Still in rude armor drest, Comest to daunt me ! Wrapt not in Eastern balms, But with thy fleshless palms Stretched, as if asking alms. Why dost thou haunt me ? " Then, from those cavernous eyes Pale flashes seemed to rise, As when the Northern skies Gleam in December; And, like the water's flow Under December's snow, Came a dull voice of woe From the heart's chamber. " I was a Viking old ! My deeds, though manifold, No Skald in song...
Página 40 - and rest Thy weary head upon this breast!" A tear stood in his bright blue eye, But still he answered, with a sigh, Excelsior! "Beware the pine-tree's withered branch! Beware the awful avalanche!
Página 78 - THIS is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling, Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms ; But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing Startles the villages with strange alarms. Ah ! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary, When the death-angel touches those swift keys ! What loud lament and dismal Miserere Will mingle with their awful symphonies...
Página 162 - As unto the bow the cord is, So unto the man is woman : Though she bends him, she obeys him, Though she draws him, yet she follows, Useless each without the other!
Página 236 - Of the lonely belfry and the dead; For suddenly all his thoughts are bent On a shadowy something far away, Where the river widens to meet the bay— A line of black that bends and floats On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.