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Kitaplar Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — Are but the solemn decorations all Of... ile ilgili
" Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread... "
Pulpit Elocution: Comprising Suggestions on the Importance of Study; Remarks ... - Sayfa 204
William Russell tarafından - 1846 - 408 sayfa
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Specimens of the American Poets

1822 - 298 sayfa
...the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe, are but a handful to the...lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound Save his -own dashings — yet, the dead are there, And millions in those...
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The Inquirer, 1. cilt

1822 - 764 sayfa
...the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe, are but a handful to the...lose thyself in the continuous .woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet, the dead are there, And millions in those...
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The Wesleyan-Methodist Magazine

1857 - 1196 sayfa
...those of death ; or rather, the inspiration of the former is everywhere consecrated by the latter. " Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods M'here rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings, — yet — the dead are there...
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The American First Class Book, Or, Exercises in Reading and Recitation

John Pierpont - 1823 - 492 sayfa
...infinite host of heaven, , Are ginning on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the...lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, 22 * 2S8 THE AMERICAN (Lew<ra 11T. Save his own dashings — yet — the...
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The United States Literary Gazette, 1. cilt

1825 - 426 sayfa
...the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death. Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. So -l..ni thou rest — and what if thou shall fall Unnoticed by the living — and no friend Take...
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The United States Literary Gazette, 1. cilt

1825 - 412 sayfa
...infinite host of heaven. Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through tile still lapse of ages. AU that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. So shall thou rest — and what if thou shah fall Unnoticed by the living — and no friend Take note...
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English Grammar: With an Improved Syntax. Part I. Comprehending at One View ...

John March Putnam - 1828 - 200 sayfa
...should not leave The earth without a vestige ;— Heaven decrees It shall be otherwise, and I submit. THANATOPSIS- BRYANT. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosoro. — Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous...
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Kettell, Samuel: Specimens of American Poetry...

1829 - 436 sayfa
...the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the...lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings— yet— the dead are there, And millions hi those...
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The Edinburgh Literary Journal: Or, Weekly Register of Criticism ..., 2. cilt

1829 - 514 sayfa
...infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death Through the still lapse of ages— all that tread The globe are but a handful to the...and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the contiguous woods, Where rolls the Oregnn, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead...
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The Edinburgh Literary Journal: Or, Weekly Register of Criticism ..., 2. cilt

1829 - 520 sayfa
...infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still laps? of ages— all that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Take the wingg Of momipg, and the Barcnn desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the contiguous woods, Where rolls...
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