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Bardell bells Biddy Bingen bird bless Bob Cratchit brave bright chamber Charco child Christmas cold coward cried dark dead dear door dream eyes face father fear feet fire Flag FLAG OF WASHINGTON forest gentlemen grave Gretchen guilders hand happy Hark head hear heard heart heathen Chinee heaven Hiawatha honor Lady Clare land laughed light look Lord Mayor merry mighty Minnehaha morning mother never Nevermore night o'er Osseo Oweenee Paul Revere Peter Quince play Polly poor Pyramus Pyramus and Thisbe Quin Quoth the raven Ring roar Robin Starveling rose round Scrooge Scrooge's Shamus O'Brien shine shout sisters smile snow sodgers soul speak Star stood street sweet tears tell thee thing Thisbe thou thought Tiny Tim turned Twas voice wigwam wild word young Cratchits
Page 126 - Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, — " Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, " art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore : Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore ! " Quoth the Raven,
Page 97 - For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people - ah, the people They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone They are neither man nor woman They are neither brute nor human They are Ghouls: And their king it is who tolls; And he rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls A paean from the bells!
Page 129 - Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend ! " I shrieked, upstarting. " Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore ! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken ! Leave my loneliness unbroken ! — quit the bust above my door ! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door ! " Quoth the Raven,
Page 95 - Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it swells! How it dwells On the Future! - how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
Page 27 - If the British march By land or sea from the town tonight, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower as a signal light,— One, if by land, and two, if by sea; And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm, For the country folk to be up and to arm.
Page 126 - Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not...
Page 66 - And shook it forth with a royal will. ' Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, But spare your country's flag,
Page 111 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Page 26 - Listen, my children, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year. He said to his friend, "If the British march By land or sea from the town tonight, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower as a signal light,— One, if by land, and two, if by sea...
Page 67 - Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, but spare your country's flag," she said. A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, over the face of the leader came ; the nobler nature within him stirred to life at that woman's deed and word. "Who touches a hair of yon gray head dies like a dog ! March on !