The Library of Poetry and Song, Volume 3
William Cullen Bryant
Doubleday, Page, 1925 - American poetry - 1100 pages
"A comprehensive exhibit of poetic literature" -- Preface. A collection of English and American poetry on topics such as nature and childhood.
What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
beauty beneath Book breath bright clouds cold comes cried dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth eyes face fair fall fancy fear feel fell flowers give grave gray green hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hope hour Italy John King lady land leaves light live look Lord lost mind morning nature never night o'er once pass peace pleasure poor POPE rest rise rose round seemed seen SHAKESPEARE side sing sleep smile song soon soul sound spirit spring stand stars stood stream strong sweet tears tell thee things thou thought Till true turned voice waves wild wind wings wonder young
Page 798 - It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice.
Page 920 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
Page 858 - Like one, that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head ; Because he knows, a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.
Page 822 - I am the daughter of earth and water, And the nursling of the sky; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores ; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when, with never a stain, The pavilion of heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams, Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.
Page 876 - And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
Page 737 - This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise, or fear to fall; Lord of himself, though not of lands; And, having nothing, yet hath all.
Page 822 - May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, The stars peep behind her and peer ; And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, Like a swarm of golden bees, When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, Are each paved with the moon and these.
Page 812 - Neaera's hair? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights and live laborious days; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, And slits the thin-spun life. "But not the praise...
Page 876 - Cassius' dagger through: See, what a rent the envious Casca made: Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd ; And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Caesar...
Page 853 - This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch...