twenty poems from henry wadsworth longfellow  (Google eBook)

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1884
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Page iv - threshing-floor. He goes on Sunday to the church, And sits among his boys ; He hears the parson pray and preach, He hears his daughter's voice, Singing in the village choir
Page 45 - Mad River? Wilt thou not pause and cease to pour Thy hurrying, headlong waters o'er This rocky shelf forever? What secret trouble stirs thy breast ? Why all this fret and flurry? Dost thou not know that what is best In this too restless world is rest
Page 20 - Are those splendors of the past, And the commerce and the crowd! Fathoms deep beneath the seas Lie the ancient wharves and quays, Swallowed by the engulfing waves ; Silent streets and vacant halls, Ruined roofs and towers and walls; Hidden from all mortal eyes Deep the sunken city lies : Even cities have their graves! This is an enchanted land! Round the headlands far away
Page 45 - IN THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. TRAVELLER. WHY dost thou wildly rush and roar, Mad River, O Mad River? Wilt thou not pause and cease to pour Thy hurrying, headlong waters o'er This rocky shelf forever? What secret trouble stirs thy breast ? Why all this fret and flurry? Dost thou not know that what is best In this too restless world is rest
Page 26 - awhile, nor longer waste Life with inconsiderate haste! " Be not like a stream that brawls Loud with shallow waterfalls, But in quiet self-control Link together soul and soul.
Page 16 - Linger until upon my brain Is stamped an image of the scene, Then fade into the air again, And be as if thou hadst not been.
Page 16 - AMALFL SWEET the memory is to me Of a land beyond the sea, Where the waves and mountains meet, Where, amid her mulberry-trees Sits Amalfi in the heat, Bathing ever her white feet In the tideless summer seas. In the middle of the town, From its fountains in the hills, Tumbling through the narrow gorge, The Canneto rushes down, Turns the great wheels of the mills, Lifts the hammers of the forge.
Page 30 - in the glare Not one alone; from each projecting cape And perilous reef along the ocean's verge. Starts into life a dim, gigantic shape, Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge. Like the great giant Christopher it stands Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave, Wading far out among the rocks and sands The night-o'ertaken mariner to save. And ever joyful, as they see it burn, They wave their silent welcomes and farewells.

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