The Speaker's Garland and Literary Bouquet: Combining 100 Choice Selections, Nos. 1, 2, 3 and 4. Four Vol. in One. Embracing Rare Poetical Gems, Fine Specimens Oratory ...P. Garrett & Company, 1876 |
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8 ページ
... brow , Who make in their dwelling a transient abode , Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road . Yea ! hope and despondency , pleasure and pain , We mingle together in sunshine and rain ; And the smiles and the tears , the ...
... brow , Who make in their dwelling a transient abode , Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road . Yea ! hope and despondency , pleasure and pain , We mingle together in sunshine and rain ; And the smiles and the tears , the ...
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... brow , in whose eye , Shone beauty and pleasure - her triumphs are by ; And the memory of those who loved her and praised , Are alike from the minds of the living erased . The hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne ; The brow of ...
... brow , in whose eye , Shone beauty and pleasure - her triumphs are by ; And the memory of those who loved her and praised , Are alike from the minds of the living erased . The hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne ; The brow of ...
8 ページ
... brow , Who make in their dwelling a transient abode , Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road . Yea ! hope and despondency , pleasure and pain , We mingle together in sunshine and rain ; And the smiles and the tears , the ...
... brow , Who make in their dwelling a transient abode , Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road . Yea ! hope and despondency , pleasure and pain , We mingle together in sunshine and rain ; And the smiles and the tears , the ...
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... brow shall sweat - drops roll like rain . " That curse has had no death ; we are brought forth in pain , And all the pathway of our checkered years Is strewn with ashes and remorseful tears , Till , in the midst of grief , we yield our ...
... brow shall sweat - drops roll like rain . " That curse has had no death ; we are brought forth in pain , And all the pathway of our checkered years Is strewn with ashes and remorseful tears , Till , in the midst of grief , we yield our ...
38 ページ
... brow the sweat of anguish Started , but it froze and fell not . Wrapp'd in furs and arm'd for hunting With his mighty bow of ash - tree , With his quiver full of arrows , With his mittens , Minjekahwun , Into the vast and vacant forest ...
... brow the sweat of anguish Started , but it froze and fell not . Wrapp'd in furs and arm'd for hunting With his mighty bow of ash - tree , With his quiver full of arrows , With his mittens , Minjekahwun , Into the vast and vacant forest ...
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多く使われている語句
Alfred Tennyson arms Bardell beautiful bells beneath bless blood brave breast breath bright brow child cold cried Dacotahs dark dead dear death deep door dream dying earth eyes face fall father fell fellah fire flag flowers gazed glory gone grave hand hath head hear heard heart heaven Hiawatha honor hour Ishmael Day JOSH BILLINGS land Lars Porsena laugh Laughing Water light lips live look Lord morning mother N. P. Willis neath never Nevermore night Nokomis o'er pale Pickwick poor pray prayer Quoth the raven ring SHAMUS Shibboleth shout silence sleep smile sorrow soul Spartacus spirit stand star-spangled banner stars stood sweet sword tears tell thee there's thing thou thought Toll Twas voice wave weary weep wife wild wonder word young
人気のある引用
7 ページ - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
35 ページ - Both read the same Bible and pray to the same God, and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces, but let us judge not, that we be not judged.
134 ページ - The splendor 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.
103 ページ - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do, lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones; So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus Hath told you Caesar was ambitious. If it were so, it was a grievous fault; And grievously hath Caesar answered it.
92 ページ - Thou art where friend meets friend, Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest — Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest. Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set — but all — Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death ! THE LOST PLEIAD.
59 ページ - I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied; — Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide,- And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.
126 ページ - Came through the jaws of Death Back from the mouth of Hell, — All that was left of them, Left of six hundred.
71 ページ - Thrilled me— filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, " 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door: Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door: This it is and nothing more.
59 ページ - for Aix is in sight!' 'How they'll greet us!' — and all in a moment his roan Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, And with circles of red for his eye-sockets
109 ページ - The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make, With a bare bodkin?