Poems of James Russell Lowell: Containing The Vision of Sir Launfal, A Fable for Critics, The Biglow Papers, Under the Willows, and Other Poems
Oxford University Press, 1917 - 630 páginas
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ain't beauty believe Biglow brain bring clear comes dark dead dear death deep divine doth doubt dream ears earth England eyes face fair faith fall fancy fear feel feet fire folks give grow half hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hold hope human John keep kind land leaves less letters light live look mean mind nature never night o'er once past poet poor present round seemed sense side silent sing sometimes song soul sound spirit stand strong sure sweet tell thee thet things thou thought tree true truth turn verse wait wind wise wonder write
Página 79 - They are slaves who fear to speak For the fallen and the weak, They are slaves who will not choose Hatred, scoffing, and abuse, Rather than in silence shrink From the truth they needs must think; They are slaves who dare not be In the right with two or three.
Página 194 - There is Lowell, who's striving Parnassus to climb With a whole bale of isms tied together with rhyme, He might get on alone, spite of brambles and boulders, But he can't with that bundle he has on his shoulders, The top of the hill he will ne'er come nigh reaching Till he learns the distinction 'twixt singing and preaching...
Página 116 - DEAR common flower, that grow'st beside the way, Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold, First pledge of blithesome May, Which children pluck, and, full of pride, uphold, High-hearted buccaneers, o'erjoyed that they An Eldorado in the grass have found, Which not the rich earth's ample round May match in wealth, — thou art more dear to me Than all the prouder summer-blooms may be.
Página 292 - em, danced 'em, druv 'em, Fust this one, an' then thet, by spells— All is, he couldn't love 'em. But long o' her his veins 'ould run All crinkly like curled maple, The side she breshed felt full o' sun Ez a south slope in Ap'il.
Página 154 - Launfal's gray hair it makes a harp, And rattles and wrings The icy strings, Singing, in dreary monotone, A Christmas carol of its own, Whose burden still, as he might guess, Was— "Shelterless, shelterless, shelterless!" The voice of the seneschal flared like a torch As he shouted the wanderer away from the porch, And he sat in the gateway and saw all night The great hall-fire, so cheery and bold, Through the window-slits of the castle old, Build out its piers of ruddy light Against the drift of...
Página 96 - Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide, In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side...
Página 423 - Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her; And she, kissing back, could not know That my kiss was given to her sister, Folded close under deepening snow.
Página 204 - There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died) To bake ye to a puddin'. The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out Towards the pootiest, bless her, An' leetle flames danced all about The chiny on the dresser.