The Prose Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Volym 2

Framsida
Houghton, Mifflin, 1886

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Sida 250 - He that hath found some fledged bird's nest may know At first sight if the bird be flown ; But what fair well or grove he sings in now, That is to him unknown.
Sida 170 - Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in, the beauty of a thousand stars...
Sida 379 - I have trodden the wine-press alone, and of the people there was none with me : for I will tread them in mine anger, and trample them in my fury, and their blood shall be sprinkled upon my garments, and I will stain all my raiment.
Sida 250 - Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill My perspective still as they pass; Or else remove me hence unto that hill * Where I shall need no glass.
Sida 379 - Who is this that cometh from Edom, with dyed garments from Bozrah? this that is glorious in his apparel, traveling in the greatness of his strength? I that speak in righteousness, mighty to save.
Sida 231 - Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?
Sida 112 - Whoe'er she be, That not impossible she That shall command my heart and me; Where'er she lie, Locked up from mortal eye In shady leaves of destiny: Till that ripe birth Of studied Fate stand forth...
Sida 249 - After the sun's remove. I see them walking in an air of glory, "Whose light doth trample on my days — My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, Mere glimmering and decays.
Sida 275 - Look not mournfully into the past: it comes not back again. Wisely improve the present: it is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future, without fear, and with a manly heart.
Sida 222 - Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail ? Pr'ythee why so pale ? Why so dull and mute, young sinner ? Pr'ythee why so mute ? Will, when speaking well, can't win her, Saying nothing do't ? Pr'ythee why so mute ? Quit, quit for shame, this will not move, This cannot take her ; If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her; The Devil take her.

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