The Female Poets of America

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H.C. Baird, 1853 - 400 ページ
 

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412 ページ - Howitt. — VISITS TO REMARKABLE PLACES. Old Halls, Battle-Fields, Scenes, illustrative of Striking Passages in English History and Poetry. By WILLIAM HOWITT. With 80 Illustrations.
48 ページ - But he did one thing that was hardly fair — He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there That all had forgotten for him to prepare. "Now, just to set them a-thinking, I'll bite this basket of fruit...
374 ページ - Among the beautiful pictures That hang on Memory's wall Is one of a dim old forest, That seemeth best of all . Not for its gnarled oaks olden, Dark with the mistletoe ; Not for the violets golden That sprinkle the vale below ; Not for the milk-white lilies That lean from the fragrant...
333 ページ - The twilight hours, like birds, flew by, As lightly and as free ; Ten thousand stars were in the sky, Ten thousand on the sea : , For every wave with dimpled face, That leaped upon the air, Had caught a star in its embrace And held it trembling there.
48 ページ - He went to the windows of those who slept, And over each pane like a fairy crept; Wherever he breathed, wherever he...
279 ページ - Labor is worship !" — the robin is singing; " Labor is worship !" — the wild bee is ringing : Listen ! that eloquent whisper upspringing Speaks to thy soul from out Nature's great heart.
19 ページ - Let be interred in my oblivious grave ; If any worth or virtue were in me, Let that live freshly in thy memory And when thou feel'st no grief, as I no harms, Yet love thy dead, who long lay in thine arms.
279 ページ - Labor is rest — from the sorrows that greet us, Rest from all petty vexations that meet us, Rest from sin-promptings that ever entreat us, Rest from world-sirens that lure us to ill.
89 ページ - I'll believe thee; Veil, if ill, thy soul's intent, Let me think it innocent! Save thy toiling, spare thy treasure; All I ask is friendship's pleasure; Let the shining ore lie darkling,— Bring no gem in lustre sparkling; Gifts and gold are naught to me, I would only look on thee!
50 ページ - But it was not long ere the soil was broke By the peering head of an infant oak ! And as it arose and its branches spread, The Pebble looked up, and wondering said : — " A modest Acorn ! never to tell What was enclosed in its simple shell...

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