A Manual of American Literature: Designed for the Use of Schools of Advanced Grades |
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Page 49
... morning when the sun peeps throug The dim , leaf - latticed windows of the grove , How jubilant the happy birds renew Their old , melodious madrigals of love ! And when you think of this , remember too ' Tis always morning somewhere ...
... morning when the sun peeps throug The dim , leaf - latticed windows of the grove , How jubilant the happy birds renew Their old , melodious madrigals of love ! And when you think of this , remember too ' Tis always morning somewhere ...
Page 58
... tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom . Take the wings Of morning , traverse Barca's desert sands , Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the 58 MANUAL OF AMERICAN LITERATURE .
... tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom . Take the wings Of morning , traverse Barca's desert sands , Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the 58 MANUAL OF AMERICAN LITERATURE .
Page 70
... morning lay Amid the glimmering dew . Next evening shone the waxing moon As sweetly as before ; The deer upon the grassy mead Was seen again no more . But ere that crescent moon was old , By night the red men came , And burnt the ...
... morning lay Amid the glimmering dew . Next evening shone the waxing moon As sweetly as before ; The deer upon the grassy mead Was seen again no more . But ere that crescent moon was old , By night the red men came , And burnt the ...
Page 79
... ! Oh crimson flush of morning that darkens as we gaze ! Oh breath of summer blossoms that on the restless air Scatters a moment's sweetness and flies we know not where ! • I grieve for life's bright promise , just shown BRYANT . 64 79.
... ! Oh crimson flush of morning that darkens as we gaze ! Oh breath of summer blossoms that on the restless air Scatters a moment's sweetness and flies we know not where ! • I grieve for life's bright promise , just shown BRYANT . 64 79.
Page 95
... " he answered , " are God's rebuke to me . " Creed and rite perchance may differ , yet our faith and hope be one : Let me be your father's father , let him be to me a son . " When the horn , on Sabbath morning , through the WHITTIER . 95.
... " he answered , " are God's rebuke to me . " Creed and rite perchance may differ , yet our faith and hope be one : Let me be your father's father , let him be to me a son . " When the horn , on Sabbath morning , through the WHITTIER . 95.
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Common terms and phrases
Alice Cary American Literature arms Atlantic Monthly Barnstable battle beauty behold beneath bird breath bright brow character child Clovernook cried Cyclopędia of American dark dead Donatello door Duyckinck's Cyclopędia earth enemy English eyes fair father feeling fire flowers forest gaze genius Goody Cole grace gray H. T. Tuckerman Hampton River hand head heart heaven hills human humor Irving laugh liberty light literary Little Jerry living look maiden MANUAL OF AMERICAN ment mind Miss Ophelia morning nature never Nevermore night noble North American Review o'er Phaėthon poems poetic poetry poets Prescott published Quoth the Raven Rip Van Winkle rose round scene seemed silent smile snow song soul spirit stars stood style sweet thee thou thought tion trees voice volume W. D. Howells wild wind wood words writings young
Popular passages
Page 147 - ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore — While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. '"Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door — Only this and nothing more.
Page 99 - So all night long the storm roared on : The morning broke without a sun ; In tiny spherule traced with lines Of Nature's geometric signs, In starry flake, and pellicle, All day the hoary meteor fell ; And, when the second morning shone, We looked upon a world unknown, On nothing we could call our own. Around the glistening wonder bent The blue walls of the firmament, No cloud above, no earth below, — A universe of sky and snow...
Page 257 - The very character of the people seemed changed. There was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about it, instead of the accustomed phlegm and drowsy tranquillity. He looked in vain for the sage Nicholas Vedder, with his broad face, double chin, and fair long pipe, uttering clouds of tobacco smoke instead of idle speeches; or Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, doling forth the contents of an ancient newspaper.
Page 39 - SPAKE full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he called the flowers so blue and golden. Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine.
Page 149 - And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted— nevermore!
Page 255 - The very village was altered; it was larger and more populous. There were rows of houses which he had never seen before, and those which had been his familiar haunts had disappeared. Strange names were over the doors, strange faces at the windows — everything was strange.
Page 55 - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair!
Page 256 - He recognized on the sign, however, the ruby face of King George, under which he had smoked so many a peaceful pipe; but even this was singularly metamorphosed. The red coat was changed for one of blue and buff, a sword was held in the hand instead of a sceptre, the head was decorated with a cocked hat, and underneath was painted in large characters, GENERAL WASHINGTON.
Page 43 - Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen summers. Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn by the wayside, Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the brown shade of her tresses! Sweet was her breath as the breath of kine that feed in the meadows.
Page 153 - That close the pestilence are broke, And crowded cities wail its stroke; Come in consumption's ghastly form, The earthquake shock, the ocean storm; Come when the heart beats high and warm With banquet song, and dance, and wine: And thou art terrible — the tear. The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, And all we know, or dream, or fear Of asronv are thine.