Illustrated Poems of Oliver Wendell HolmesHoughton, Mifflin, 1885 - 89 σελίδες |
Άλλες εκδόσεις - Προβολή όλων
Illustrated Poems of Oliver Wendell Holmes Oliver Wendell Holmes,Making of America Project Δεν υπάρχει διαθέσιμη προεπισκόπηση - 2018 |
Illustrated Poems of Oliver Wendell Holmes Oliver Wendell Holmes Δεν υπάρχει διαθέσιμη προεπισκόπηση - 2017 |
Συχνά εμφανιζόμενοι όροι και φράσεις
AVIARY BARSE BILL AND JOE BOSTON TEA-PARTY bowl brave breast breath bright BROTHER JONATHAN'S LAMENT BUNKER-HILL BATTLE Bunker's Hill Caroline CHAMBERED NAUTILUS dark Deacon DEACON'S MASTERPIECE dear DOROTHY Q dreaming eyes faded fire Flower of Liberty FREDERIC CROWNINSHIELD glistening GRANDMOTHER'S STORY hail the banner hand Head piece hear heart heaven hill holy HOWARD PYLE IRON GATE LAST LEAF LENDING A PUNCH-BOWL lips LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS live look Lord LOUIS RITTER lyre morning MOTHER'S SECRET never nursling o'er old sol OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES ORGAN-BLOWER PILGRIM'S VISION round S. L. SMITH SAUTY shadows shore SILENT MELODY slender slumber smile song soul starry Flower STORY OF BUNKER-HILL stream strong SUN AND SHADOW sunshine sweet Tail piece tear tell thee thine Thou thrill toiling told VOICELESS W. F. HALSALL W. H. SHELTON W. T. SMEDLEY Wandering Jew waves whispered wild wonderful one-hoss shay wrecks youth
Δημοφιλή αποσπάσματα
Σελίδα 58 - Thoroughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide ; Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide Found in the pit when the tanner died. That was the way he "put her through." — " There ! " said the Deacon,
Σελίδα 37 - Torn is the silken-fringed red cross on high; Many a belted breast Low on the turf shall rest, Ere the dark hunters the herd have passed by. Snow-girdled crags where the hoarse wind is raving, Rocks where the weary floods murmur and wail, Wilds where the fern by the furrow is waving,
Σελίδα 63 - Wasted to a shadow, with a hartshorn odor Of disintegration. Drops of deliquescence glistened on his forehead, Whitened round his feet the dust of efflorescence, Till one Monday morning, when the flow suspended, There was no De Sauty. Nothing but a cloud of elements organic^ COHN Ferrum, Chlor. Flu. Sil. Potassa, Cale. Sod. Phosph. Mag. Sulphur, Mang.
Σελίδα 45 - And we looked, poor timid creatures, on the rough old soldier's features, Our lips afraid to question, but he knew what we would ask : " Not sure," he said ; " keep quiet, — once more, I guess, they 11 try it — Here 's damnation to the cut-throats !
Σελίδα 38 - Reeled with the echoes that rode on the gale; Far as the tempest thrills Over the darkened hills, Far as the sunshine streams over the plain, Roused by the tyrant band, Woke all the mighty land, Girded for battle, from mountain to main. Green be the graves where her martyrs are lying! Shroudless and tombless they sunk to their rest, — While
Σελίδα 6 - my eyes grow moist and dim, To think of all the vanished joys that danced around its brim. Then fill a fair and honest cup, and bear it straight to me ; The goblet hallows all it holds, whate'er the liquid be ; And may the cherubs on its face protect me from the sin, That dooms one to those dreadful words, —
Σελίδα 70 - LINE. SLOW toiling upward from the misty vale, I leave the bright enamelled zones below ; No more for me their beauteous bloom shall glow, Their lingering sweetness load the morning gale; Few are the slender flowerets, scentless, pale. That on their ice-clad stems all trembling blow Along the margin of unmelting snow
Σελίδα 12 - O weary hour! O aching days that passed Filled with strange fears each wilder than the last,— The soldier's lance, the fierce centurion's sword, The crushing wheels that whirl some Roman lord, The midnight crypt that sucks the captive's breath, The blistering sun on Hinnom's vale of death!
Σελίδα 14 - THE VOICELESS. WE count the broken lyres that rest Where the sweet wailing singers slumber, But o'er their silent sister's breast The wild-flowers who will stoop to number? A few can touch the
Σελίδα 12 - When at the Holy Place the tribes appear. Scarce had the home-bred child of Nazareth seen Beyond the hills that girt the village green; Save when at midnight, o'er the starlit sands, Snatched from the steel of Herod's murdering bands, A babe, close folded to his mother's breast,