Songs from the Golden Gate |
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Common terms and phrases
Art thou balm beat beautiful bees beloved bird bitter bloom blossom blue boughs breast breath brood butterflies captive cloud cool Cupid kissed dark dawn dead dear dove dream dreary dust earth evermore eyes fall feet flowers fluttering foam Forget glad glad song gold Good-by grass shall cover green grow hand happy heart HELEN HUNT JACKSON hills King land lark leaf leaves light lily lingering lips looks lover melodies merry morn never night pain peace rain Rain-in-the-Face rest ripple rose sang serene shadow shadow Falls sheaves shining sigh silence sing skies smiled snow soft softly song sorrow soul stars summer long summer wind sunset sunshine sweet sweeter swift tears tempest tender thee thou to-day trees trill unto voice wait wake waters waves weary Well-a-day WHITE CITY wild wings wings of gold wonderful town
Popular passages
Page 7 - IT'S O my heart, my heart, To be out in the sun and sing! To sing and shout in the fields about, In the balm and the blossoming.
Page 152 - Thy satin vesture richer is than looms Of Orient weave for raiment of her kings ! Not dyes of olden Tyre, not precious things Regathered from the long- forgotten tombs Of buried empires, not the iris plumes That wave upon the tropics' myriad wings, Not all proud Sheba's queenly offerings Could match the golden marvel of thy blooms.
Page 15 - A grass-blade fanned across my hand, Would thrill me like a lover's touch. The trees would talk with me ; the flowers Their hidden meanings each make known — The olden lore revived once more, When man's and nature's heart were one. And as the pardoned pair might come Back to the garden God first framed, And hear Him call at even-fall, And answer,
Page 30 - Insect or blossom ? Fragile, fairy thing, Poised upon slender tip and quivering To flight! a flower of the fields of air; A jeweled moth; a butterfly, with rare And tender tints upon his downy wing, A moment resting in our happy sight; A flower held captive by a thread so slight Its petal-wings of broidcred gossamer Are, light as the wind, with every wind astir— Wafting sweet odor, faint and exquisite.
Page 21 - How true she was," When the grass grows over me. When the grass shall cover me, Holden close to earth's warm bosom, — While I laugh, or weep, or sing, Nevermore, for anything, You will find in blade and blossom, Sweet small voices, odorous, Tender pleaders in my cause, That shall speak me as I was — When the grass grows over me.
Page 133 - What magic dwelt within the pen, Whose music into silence slips, Whose spell lives not again ! For her the clamorous today The dreamful yesterday became ; The brands upon dead hearths that lay Leaped into living flame. Clear ring the silvery Mission bells Their calls to vesper and to mass ; O'er vineyard slopes, thro' fruited dells, The long processions pass ; The pale Franciscan lifts in air The Cross above the kneeling throng ; Their simple world how sweet with prayer, With chant and matin-song!...
Page 11 - The full-blown roses, red and white, In perfect beauty stand. The mourning-dove within the woods Forgets, nor longer grieves; A light wind lifts the bladed corn, And ripples the ripe sheaves; High overhead some happy bird Sings softly in the leaves. The butterflies flit by, and bees; A peach falls to the ground; The tinkle of a bell is heard From some far pasture-mound; The crickets in the warm, green grass Chirp with a softened sound.
Page 20 - ME" WHEN the grass shall cover me, Head to foot where I am lying; When not any wind that blows, Summer blooms nor winter snows, Shall awake me to your sighing: Close above me as you pass, You will say, "How kind she was," You will say, "How true she was," When the grass grows over me.
Page 155 - Sweet, sweet, sweet ! O skies, serene and blue, That shut the velvet pastures in, that fold the mountain's crest ! sweet, sweet, sweet! What of the clouds ye knew? The vessels ride a golden tide, upon a sea at rest. Sweet, sweet, sweet! Who prates of care and pain? Who says that life is sorrowful? O life so glad, so fleet! Ah ! he who lives the noblest life finds life the noblest gain, The tears of pain a tender rain to make its waters sweet. Sweet, sweet, sweet! O happy world that is! Dear heart,...
Page 4 - In every wind that blows. What clearer heavens can shine Above the land whereon the shadow lies Of her dead glory, and her slaughtered kings, And lost, evanished gods? Upon my fresh green sods No king has walked to curse and desolate: But in the valleys Freedom sits and sings, And on the heights above; Upon her brows the leaves of olive boughs, And in her arms a dove; And the great hills are pure, undesecrate, White with their snows untrod, And mighty with the presence of their God!