Poems

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Ticknor, Reed, and Fields, 1851 - 286 páginas

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Página 22 - AY, tear her tattered ensign down ! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky ; Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar ; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more ! Her deck, once red with heroes...
Página 154 - WROTE some lines once on a time In wondrous merry mood, And thought, as usual, men would say They were exceeding good. They were so queer, so very queer, I laughed as I would die; Albeit, in the general way, A sober man am I. I called my servant, and he came; How kind it was of him, To mind a slender man like me, He of the mighty limb ! "These to the printer," I exclaimed, And, in my humorous way, I added (as a trifling jest), "There'll be the devil to pay.
Página 267 - And all his sturdy men-at-arms were ranged about the board. He poured the fiery Hollands in, — the man that never feared, — He took a long and solemn draught, and wiped his yellow beard; And one by one the musketeers — the men that fought and prayed — All drank as 'twere their mother's milk, and not a man afraid.
Página 85 - Ere the priming-knife of Time Cut him down, Not a better man was found By the Crier on his round Through the town. But now he walks the streets, And he looks at all he meets Sad and wan, And he shakes his feeble head, That it seems as if he said,
Página 98 - Why will she train that winter curl In such a spring-like way? How can she lay her glasses down, And say she reads as well, When, through a double convex lens, She just makes out to spell ? Her father — grandpapa!
Página 147 - But hark ! the air again is still, The music all is ground, And silence, like a poultice, comes To heal the blows of sound...
Página 23 - Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, And waves were white below, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee;— The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea.
Página 87 - My grandmamma has said — Poor old lady, she is dead Long ago— That he had a Roman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow. But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here; But the old three-cornered hat, And the breeches, and all that, Are so queer! And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the tree In the spring, Let them smile, as I do now, At...
Página 185 - ... storm-clouds the thunder-burst rolling, Circles the beat of the mustering drum. Fast on the soldier's path Darken the waves of wrath, Long have they gathered and loud shall they fall ; Red glares the musket's flash, Sharp rings the rifle's crash, Blazing and clanging from thicket and wall. Gayly the plume of the horseman was dancing, Never to shadow his cold brow again ; Proudly at morning the war-steed was prancing, Reeking and panting he droops on the rein...
Página 269 - Nay, this poor bawble it bequeathed, — my eyes grow moist and dim, To think of all the vanished joys that danced around its brim. Then fill a fair and honest cup...

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