Mount Auburn, and Other PoemsW. D. Ticknor, 1843 - 156 páginas |
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Términos y frases comunes
Acropolis amid beam Beneath bier billow bloom blue breeze bright brow cast cenotaph cheek cheer cherub crown Dagobert dance dark dead dear Death's deep Died at Boston doth drooping dust dust to dust E'en earth earthly evanescent fading flame flowers gate gaze gilded gleam gloom glow golden grass grave green ground grove hand hatchment hath heard heart hollow Indian Ridge Path Joseph Story journey's end kindred life's lisping lyre marble Memory's Miss Elizabeth mould mound MOUNT AUBURN mournful Neath NOTE o'er thy pale Parthenon Père la Chaise pilgrim plain repose rest Resurgemus Rhine rolling sacred sail serene Sesostris shadow shining shore sighs skiff sleep smile snowy soft solemn song soul sparkling spirit spread strain strangers stream sweet SWEET Auburn tears Thebes thick thou thy ashes Thy name Time's tomb tread voice waves weep whisperings wild Willow Avenue wreath Yarrow Path youthful
Pasajes populares
Página 121 - In some wild forest shade, Under some spreading oak, or waving pine, Or old elm, festooned with the gadding vine, Let me be laid. In this dim lonely grot, No foot intrusive will disturb my dust ; But o'er me songs of the wild birds shall burst, Cheering the spot.
Página 122 - But o'er me songs of the wild birds shall burst, Cheering the spot. Not amid charnel stones, Or coffins dark, and thick with ancient mould, With tattered pall, and fringe of cankered gold, May rest my bones ; But let the dewy rose, The snow-drop and the violet, lend perfume Above the spot where, in my grassy tomb, I take repose. Year after year, Within the silver birch tree o'er me hung, The chirping wren shall rear her callow young, Shall build her dwelling near. And ever at the purple dawn of day...
Página 123 - The golden oriole, shall flit around, And waken, with a mellow gust of sound, The forest's solemn hush. Birds from the distant sea Shall sometimes hither flock on snowy wings, And soar above my dust in airy rings, Singing a dirge to me.
Página 122 - But let the dewy rose, The snow-drop and the violet, lend perfume Above the spot where, in my grassy tomb, I take repose. Year after year, Within the silver birch tree o'er me hung, The chirping wren shall rear her callow young, Shall build her dwelling near.
Página 151 - They dance in the sunshine, they ride upon the iieams of the stars, they float about in the melodies of music, they nestle in the cups of the flowers, and I am forced to believe, that never a flower fades, or a beam passes away, without some being mourning the brief date of loveliness on earth.
Página 143 - Close its bright, scarce-opened eye, Blue as is the azure sky; Smooth those locks of flowing gold, Soon to tarnish in the mould ! Smooth the snowy funeral dress, Print the latest fond caress ; Close the lid, and spread the pall, Hither all the mourners call : Father ! kneel beside the bier, Mother ! drop the sparkling tear ; Brothers, sisters of the dead ! Let your partings now be said. Let the solemn preacher pray For the young soul flown away ! Bear the little coffin, then, From the noisy walks...
Página 70 - ... little band departed, Pilgrims from our classic home, Joyous each, and happy-hearted, Through life's untried scenes to roam, Little recked we of its sorrow, Joy to-day and grief to-morrow ! But alas, the thorny way Hath entangled many feet. And how many are reposing Where the churchyard tenants meet ! But no purer name than thine Fills the tablet's mournful line. Ashes to ashes — dust to dust ! 'Tis written that the glowing cheek In its youthful bloom must fade As fades the rainbow's painted...
Página 11 - ... cold world, Its void pretences, shallow sympathies, And crumbling friendships comfortless and cold. What love betrayed — how many a broken heart, What misery — what degradation sleeps Beneath thy beauteous bosom ! now at rest, Where pain can weary not, nor passion enter in. * * * William Winter. MOUNT AUBURN. SWEET Auburn! o'er thy rolling slopes The sparkling winter snows are spread; Fast, fast the feathery flakes descend O'er these calm dwellings of the dead...
Página 121 - The celebrated WILSON, the ornithologist, requested that he might be buried near some sunny spot, where the birds would come and sing over his grave. This wish is most beautifully expressed in the following lines. The author is unknown to me.