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40 cents apple-tree autumn beautiful beneath bloom blossoms blue Bob-o'-link bowers breath bright brook brows Bryant calm chee clouds cold cottage crimson deep deer dream earth eyes fair fairy fairy tales Fling flowers forest frost gentle gleam glistening golden shower grave green hand hanging rock haply haunt Hawthorne's heart heaven hill human land Land of Dreams light Longfellow's look maid maiden merry mighty mould mountain murmuring never night Number o'er Papaya passed poem poet rill Robert of Lincoln rock round savanna Sella shadow shalt shout silent sleep slippers smile snow snow-maiden soft soft eyes song Song of Hiawatha sorrow sound spank Spink spring stood stream summer sweep sweet tears Thanatopsis thee thine thou hast trees Uncle John vale voice walk wandering Washington Irving Waterfowl waters Whittier's WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT winds winter woods youth
Página 95 - So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw In silence from the living, and no friend Take note of thy departure? All that breathe Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favorite phantom ; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come And make their bed with thee.
Página 93 - Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart, Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings, while from all around— Earth and her waters, and the depths of air — Comes a still voice, — Yet a few days and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more...
Página 94 - Thou shalt lie down With patriarchs of the infant world — with kings, The powerful of the earth — the wise, the good, Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, All in one mighty sepulchre.
Página 93 - 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.
Página 94 - Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there ! And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep — the dead reign there alone.
Página 64 - Fruits that shall swell in sunny June, And redden in the August noon, And drop, when gentle airs come by, That fan the blue September sky, While children come with cries of glee, And seek them where the fragrant grass Betrays their bed to those who pass, At the foot of the apple-tree.
Página 52 - The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore, And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more. And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died, The fair meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side: In the cold moist earth we laid her, when the forest cast the leaf, And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief: Yet not unmeet it was that one, like that young friend of ours, So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.
Página 94 - The hills, Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun ; the vales, Stretching in pensive quietness between ; The venerable woods ; rivers that move In majesty ; and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green ; and, poured round all, Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste — Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man.
Página 66 - 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, Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down, And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And supplication.
Página 50 - THE melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead ; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread ; The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay, • And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day. Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?