Selections from American poetry, with special reference to Poe, Longfellow, Lowell and Whittier by Unknown
page 103 of 414 (24%)
page 103 of 414 (24%)
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That blushed and bloomed,
Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed. And travellers, now, within that valley, Through the red-litten windows see Vast forms, that move fantastically To a discordant melody, While, like a ghastly rapid river, Through the pale door A hideous throng rush out forever And laugh--but smile no more. TO ONE IN PARADISE Thou wast all that to me, love, For which my soul did pine-- A green isle in the sea, love, A fountain and a shrine All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers, And all the flowers were mine. Ah, dream too bright to last! Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise But to be overcast! A voice from out the Future cries, "On! on!"--but o'er the Past |
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