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autumn ballad Bart beautiful belfry BELFRY OF BRUGES beneath blue breath bright Bruges Chispa clouds Count of Lara Cruz Cruzado dance dark dead death deep diary Don Carlos dost dreams earth Euroclydon Excelsior eyes fair fear flowers forever gentle Ghent gleam gold golden Graham's Magazine green Guy de Dampierre Gypsy hand hast hear heard heart heaven HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW holy Hypolito leaves light Line lips Longfellow look loud maiden midnight Minnesinger Monk moon morning mountain never night Nuremberg o'er ocean Padre passed poem poet Pray prayer Prec Preciosa Psalm ring rise river sail Saint sang Scene shadows ship silent silver singing Skeleton in Armor sleep soft song soul sound Spanish speak stanza star sweet thee thou art thought Timoneda tower trees Vict Victorian village voice volume wave wild wind window woods wrote youth
Page 204 - How beautiful is the rain ! • After the dust and heat, In the broad and fiery street, In the narrow lane, How beautiful is the rain I How it clatters along the roofs, Like the tramp of hoofs I How it gushes and struggles out From the throat of the overflowing spout I Across the
Page 28 - Wondrous truths, and manifold as wondrous, God hath written in those stars above ; But not less in the bright flowerets under us Stands the revelation of his love. Bright and glorious is that revelation, Written all over this great world of ours, Making evident our own creation, In these stars of earth, these golden
Page 257 - roar, In spite of false lights on the shore, Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,
Page 312 - in December; And, like the water's flow Under December's snow, Came a dull voice of woe From the heart's chamber. » I was a Viking old I My deeds, though manifold, No Skald in song has told, No Saga taught thee I Take heed, that in thy verse Thou dost the tale rehearse, Else dread a dead man's
Page 197 - the blue Franconian mountains, Nuremberg, the ancient, stands. Quaint old town of toil and traffic, quaint old town of art and song, Memories haunt thy pointed gables, like the rooks that round them throng: Memories of the Middle Ages, when the emperors, rough and bold, Had their dwelling in thy castle, time-defying,
Page 287 - These are the three great chords of might, And he whose ear is tuned aright Will hear no discord in the three, But the most perfect harmony." SUSPIRIA. TAKE them, O Death ! and bear away Whatever thou canst call thine own! Thine image, stamped upon this clay, Doth give thee that, but that alone
Page 312 - That the poor whimpering hound ** Oft to his frozen lair Tracked I the grisly bear, While from my path the hare Fled like a shadow; Oft through the forest dark Followed the were-wolf's bark, Until the soaring lark Sang from the meadow. * But when I older grew, Joining a Corsair's crew, O'er the dark sea I flew With the marauders.
Page 287 - Take them, O Grave ! and let them lie Folded upon thy narrow shelves, As garments by the soul laid by, And precious only to ourselves I Take them, O great Eternity! Our little life is but a gust That bends the branches of thy tree, HYMN FOB MY BROTHER'S ORDINATION.
Page 308 - Lays her gentle hand in mine. And she sits and gazes at me, With her deep and tender eyes, Like the stars so still and saint-like Looking downward from the skies. Page 27. Spake full well, in language quaint and