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American beautiful beneath blessing called canoe Captain Catskill Mountains cold Columbus Cotton Mather Dame Van Winkle dark Deerslayer Dutch earth England eyes father feeling fire flowers follow Glossary gray hand head hear heard heart HELPS TO STUDY hills honor horse Ichabod Ichabod Crane Indian Irving James Russell Lowell John Alden King land laugh light live look Maud Muller Miles Standish mountain never night o'er Oliver Wendell Holmes Oral and Written passed Pathfinder peace poem poet poor rifle Rip Van Winkle Rip's river round sail scene seemed shore side Sleepy Hollow soldiers sound spirit stand stanza stood story strange sweet tell thee things thou thought toil Town Pump tree turned village voice Washington Irving wild William Cullen Bryant wind wood Written Composition young
Page 360 - Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is...
Page 372 - Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, And frighted waves rush wildly back Before the broadside's reeling rack, Each dying wanderer of the sea Shall look at once to heaven and thee, And smile to see thy splendors fly In triumph o'er his closing eye. Flag of the free heart's hope and home, By angel hands to valor given ! Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven. Forever float that standard sheet ! Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath...
Page 151 - We have petitioned, we have remonstrated, we have supplicated, we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne.
Page 285 - To him who in the love of nature holds Communion with her visible forms she speaks A various language ; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
Page 152 - If we wish to be free , if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending ; if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, we must fight ! I repeat it, sir, we must fight ! An appeal to arms and to the God of hosts is all that is left us. They tell us, sir, that we are weak ; unable to cope...
Page 150 - I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided; and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years, to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the house? Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received?
Page 285 - Yet a few days and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground, Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist Thy image.
Page 289 - The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined being o'errun With the deluge of summer it receives; His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings; He sings to the wide world and she to her nest, — In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best?
Page 221 - Down the dark future, through long generations, The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease ; And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, I hear once more the voice of Christ say, "Peace !" Peace ! and no longer from its brazen portals The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies ! But beautiful as songs of the immortals, The holy melodies of love arise.
Page 358 - He knew to bide his time, And can his fame abide, Still patient in his simple faith sublime, Till the wise years decide. Great captains, with their guns and drums, Disturb our judgment for the hour, But at last silence comes; These all are gone, and, standing like a tower, Our children shall behold his fame, The kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeing man, Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame, New birth of our new soil, the first American.