May Festival of the University of Michigan, الأعداد 27-30

الغلاف الأمامي
1920
0 مراجعات
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ما يقوله الناس - كتابة مراجعة

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الصفحة 13 - O say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming? Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming! And the rockets...
الصفحة 39 - Who is Silvia ? what is she, That all our swains commend her ? Holy, fair, and wise is she, The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired' be. Is she kind as she is fair ? For beauty lives with kindness : Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness; And, being helped, inhabits there.
الصفحة 32 - Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord ; and he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the earth with a curse.
الصفحة 32 - DEAR Harp of my country ! in darkness I found thee, The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long, When proudly, my own Island Harp ! I unbound thee, And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song...
الصفحة 44 - God is gone up with a merry noise : and the Lord with the sound of the trump.
الصفحة 44 - I WILL lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.
الصفحة 32 - But he himself went a day's journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a juniper tree: and he requested for himself that he might die; and said, It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life ; for I am not better than my fathers.
الصفحة 32 - Let music swell the breeze, And ring from all the trees Sweet freedom's song ! Let mortal tongues awake ; Let all that breathe partake ; Let rocks their silence break,— The sound prolong ! Our fathers...
الصفحة 31 - My native country, thee, Land of the noble, free, Thy name I love ; I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills : My heart with rapture thrills Like that above.
الصفحة 39 - Where the bee sucks, there suck I; In a cowslip's bell I lie: There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly, After summer, merrily : Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

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