The American Treasury Of 1004 Folk Songs

Author : Frederic Lawrence Knowles
Publisher : Rarebooksclub.com
ISBN 13 : 9781230065878
Total Pages : 44 pages
Book Rating : 4.0/5 (658 download)

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Download or read book Golden Treasury of American Songs and Lyrics written by Frederic Lawrence Knowles and published by Rarebooksclub.com. This book was released on 2013-09 with total page 44 pages. Available in PDF, EPUB and Kindle. Book excerpt: This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1901 edition. Excerpt: ... we not from the earth drawn juices Too fine for earth's sordid uses? Have I heard, have I seen All I feel and I know? Doth my heart overween? Or could it have been Long ago? Sometimes a breath floats by me, An odor from Dreamland sent, That makes the ghost seem nigh me Of a splendor that came and went, Of a life lived somewhere, I know not In what diviner sphere, Of memories that stay not and go not, Like music heard once by an ear That cannot forget or reclaim it, A something so shy, it would shame it To make it a show, A something too vague, could I name it, For others to know, As if I had lived it or dreamed it, As if I had acted or schemed it, Long ago! And yet, could I live it over, This life that stirs in my brain, Could I be both maiden and lover, Moon and tide, bee and clover, As I seem to have been, once again, Could I but speak and show it, This pleasure more sharp than pain, That bafiles and lures me so, The world should not lack a poet, Such as it had In the ages glad, Long ago! J. R. LOWELL. THE tide rises, the tide falls, The twilight darkens, the curlew calls; Along the sea-sands damp and brown The traveller hastens toward the town, And the tide rises, the tide falls. Darkness settles on roofs and walls, But the sea in the darkness calls and calls; The little waves, with their soft, white hands, Efface the footprints in the sands, And the tide rises, the tide falls. The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls; The day returns, but nevermore Returns the traveller to the shore, And the tide rises, the tide falls. H. W. LONGFELLOW. FOR a cap and bells our lives we pay, Bubbles we buy with a whole soul's tasking; 'Tis heaven alone that is given away, 'Tis only...