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Acadian admiration Alnwick Castle American Annabel Lee beauty beneath breath Bryant Byron Cachuca Carmelite character charm cloud Coleridge consider Cooper critic Dana dark death Don Quixote dramatist dream earth elaborate elegant Emerson England English evidence expression fact fair feel force genius George Sand give gondola grave hand hath heard heart heaven Hernando Cortes human idea illustration intellect Jenny Lind Kirkland lady land Leigh Hunt light lines living Longfellow look MARGARET FULLER mind Miss Fuller monomania nation Natty Bumppo nature never night o'er once opinion passion peculiar poem poet poet's poetical poetry Prescott present prose quote reader remarks romance scene seems Shakspeare singular smile soul sound spirit stanza style sure sweet thee things thou thought throw tion true truth verse voice Willis wind woman word writings
Page 115 - TO HELEN. Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
Page 84 - And marked the mild, angelic air, The rapture of repose that's there, The fixed yet tender traits that streak The languor of the placid cheek, And — but for that sad shrouded eye, That fires not, wins not, weeps not now, And but for that chill, changeless brow...
Page 208 - THE groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above them — ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems ; in the darkling wood, Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down, And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And supplication.
Page 126 - IT WAS many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of ANNABEL LEE; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.
Page 228 - AT midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power ; In dreams, through camp and court, he bore The trophies of a conqueror ; In dreams his song of triumph heard. Then wore his monarch's signet ring, Then pressed that monarch's throne — a King ; As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden bird.
Page 231 - ... when she fears For him the joy of her young years, Thinks of thy fate, and checks her tears; And she, the mother of thy boys, Though in her eye and faded cheek Is read the grief she will not speak, The memory of her buried joys, And even she who gave thee birth, Will, by their pilgrim-circled hearth, Talk of thy doom without a sigh; For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's: One of the few, the immortal names, That were not born to die.
Page 127 - For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee...
Page 127 - But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we Of many far wiser than we And neither the angels in Heaven above Nor the demons down under the sea Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee...
Page 156 - Sound needed none, Nor any voice of joy; his spirit drank The spectacle: sensation, soul, and form, All melted into him; they swallowed up His animal being ; in them did he live, And by them did he live; they were his life. In such access of mind, in such high hour Of visitation from the living God, Thought was not; in enjoyment it expired.