Chambers's cyclopaedia of English literature : a history critical and biographical of authors in the English tongue from the earliest times till the present day, with specimens of their writing . ve at night,Scourged to his dungeon ; but, sustained and soothedBy an unfaltering trust, approach thy graveLike one who wraps the drapery of his couchAbout him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. From The Death of the melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead
Chambers's cyclopaedia of English literature : a history critical and biographical of authors in the English tongue from the earliest times till the present day, with specimens of their writing . ve at night,Scourged to his dungeon ; but, sustained and soothedBy an unfaltering trust, approach thy graveLike one who wraps the drapery of his couchAbout him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. From The Death of the melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead ;They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbits tread; 752 William Cullen Bryant The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs tlie from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day. Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, thatlately sprang and stood In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood ? Alas ! they all are in their graves, the gentle race offlowers Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good ofours. The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold Novem-ber rain Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. From an Engraving in the British Museum. From The this soft turf, this rivulets sands, Were trampled by a hunying crowd,And fiery hearts and armed hands Encountered in the battle-cloud. Ah ! never shall the land forget How gushed the life-blood of her brave—Gushed, warm with hope and courage yet, Upon the soil they fought to save. Now all is calm, and fresh, and still; Alone the chirp of flitting talk of children on the hill. And bell of wandering kine, are heard. No solemn host goes trailing by The black-mouthed gun and staggering wainMen start not at the battle-cry, Oh, be it never heard again ! Soon rested those who fought; but thouWho minglest in the harder strife For truths which men receive not now,Thy warfare only ends with life. . Tru
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectenglish, bookyear1901
