#Americans #XIXCentury
Sing, O Song of Hiawatha, Of the happy days that followed, In the land of the Ojibways, In the pleasant land and peaceful! Sing the mysteries of Mondamin,
Nothing the greatest artist can co… That every marble block doth not c… Within itself; and only its design The hand that follows intellect ca… The ill I flee, the good that I b…
Into the city of Kambalu, By the road that leadeth to Ispah… At the head of his dusty caravan, Laden with treasure from realms af… Baldacca and Kelat and Kandahar,
In the convent of Drontheim, Alone in her chamber Knelt Astrid the Abbess, At midnight, adoring, Beseeching, entreating
O precious evenings! all too swift… Leaving us heirs to amplest herita… Of all the best thoughts of the gr… And giving tongues unto the silent… How our hearts glowed and trembled…
When first in ancient time, from… The tuneful anthem filled the morn… To sacred hymnings and elysian son… His music-breathing sehll the mins… Devotion breathed aloud from every…
Well pleased the audience heard th… The Theologian said: 'Indeed, To praise you there is little need… One almost hears the farmers flail Thresh out your wheat, nor does th…
On the green little isle of Inchk… Who is it that walks by the shore, So gay with his Highland blue bon… So brave with his targe and claymo… His form is the form of a giant,
Half of my life is gone, and I ha… The years slip from me and have no… The aspiration of my youth, to bui… Some tower of song with lofty para… Not indolence, nor pleasure, nor t…
In those days said Hiawatha, “Lo! how all things fade and peris… From the memory of the old men Pass away the great traditions, The achievements of the warriors,
Short of stature, large of limb, Burly face and russet beard, All the women stared at him, When in Iceland he appeared. ‘Look!’ they said,
I leave you, ye cold mountain chai… Dwelling of warriors stark and fro… You, may these eyes behold no more… Rave on the horizon of our plains. Vanish, ye frightful, gloomy views…
IN that delightful land, which is… Guarding in sylvan shades the name… Stands on the banks of its beautif… There all the air is balm, and the… And the streets still re-echo the…
Mr. Finney had a turnip, And it grew, and it grew, And it grew behind the barn, And the turnip did no harm. And it grew, and it grew,
STARS of the summer night! Far in yon azure deeps, Hide, hide your golden light! She sleeps! My lady sleeps!