 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...  The Book of Poetry - Page 152edited by - 1844 - 264 pagesFull view - About this book
 | George Vandenhoff - 1846 - 398 pages
...infinite host of heav'n, Are shining as the sad abodes of death, Thro' the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes...woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save of his own dashings ; yet, — the dead are there ; And millions in those solitudes, since first The... | |
 | Travers Twiss - 1846 - 304 pages
...Mr. Washington Irving has pronounced to be amongst the most distinguished of American poets : — " Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce,...Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings." If we adopt the more extensive use of the term Oregon territory, as applied to the entire country intermediate... | |
 | George Vandenhoff - 1847 - 400 pages
...infinite host of heav'n, Are shining as the sad abodes of death, Thro' the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes...woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save of his own dashings ; yet — the dead are there ; And millions in those solitudes, since first The... | |
 | Salem Town - 1847 - 420 pages
...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. Take the wmgs Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce ; Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls... | |
 | William Cullen Bryant - 1847 - 520 pages
...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.—Take the wings Of morning—and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous... | |
 | William Harvey Wells - 1847 - 228 pages
...counsels to nought." — Bancroft. " Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God." — Coleridge. " Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings." — Bryant. " The oak Shall send his roots abroad and pierce thy mould." — Ibid. " A nd see where... | |
 | 1848 - 272 pages
...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...in its bosom — take the wings Of morning, and the Barean desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hear no sounds... | |
 | 1848 - 276 pages
...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.—Take the wings Of morning—and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous... | |
 | 1848 - 272 pages
...but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom — take the wings Of morning, and the Barean desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hear no sounds Save its own dashings ; yet the dead are there. And millions in those solitudes, since... | |
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