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" 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 globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom — Take the wings Of morning — and the Barcan... "
The Wheat-sheaf; Or, Gleanings for the Wayside and Fireside ... - Page 197
1853 - 416 pages
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Poems

William Cullen Bryant - American poetry - 1836 - 274 pages
...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...lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregau, and hears no sound, THANATOPSIS. 33 Save his own dashings — yet — the dead are there ;...
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An Introductory Lecture Delivered at the Opening of the Bangor Lyceum: Nov ...

Frederic Henry Hedge - Lectures and lecturing - 1836 - 29 pages
...American treeThe Rocky mountains deliver up their furs to our hardy huntsmen. From Baffin's bay "To the continuous woods, Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings." wherever a new path of gain is opened, or to be opened, we are there with our capital, our enterprise,...
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Speech of Ephraim Banks, Esq., of Mifflin: Delivered in the Convention, to ...

Ephraim Banks - Bank notes - 1838 - 15 pages
...intellect unclouded by the sophisms of ages. From its borders, kissed by the waves of the Atlantic, to "The continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashing ;" from the inland oceans of the north, to the sparkling surface of the tropical sea,rippled...
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The Young Lady's Reader

Louisa Caroline Tuthill - English language - 1839 - 458 pages
...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,...Save his own dashings ; yet — the dead are there, Anil millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their...
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The American Common-place Book of Poetry, with Occasional Notes

American poetry - 1839 - 405 pages
...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,...Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings; yet—the dead are there ; And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began,...
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The American Orator's Own Book: A Manual of Extemporaneous Eloquence ...

Oratory - 1840 - 279 pages
...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,...rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashing* ; yet — the dead are there ; And millions in those solitudes, since first The night of years...
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The Remembrancer, Or, Fragments for Leisure Hours

Children's poetry - 1841 - 216 pages
...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,...continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sounds, Save his own dashings, yet the dead are there, And millions in these solitudes, since first...
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Poems: By William Cullen Bryant

William Cullen Bryant - American poetry - 1840 - 276 pages
...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...lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound, THANATOPSIS. 33 Save his own dashings — yet — the dead are there ;...
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The American Common-place Book of Poetry: With Occasional Notes

George Barrell Cheever - American poetry - 1841 - 405 pages
...of death, Through the slill 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 deserl pierce ; Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound,...
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A System of Elocution: With Special Reference to Gesture, to the Treatment ...

Andrew Comstock - Elocution - 1841 - 364 pages
...Through the still lapse of ages. | All that tread The glo&e , | are but , a hand,fulb | to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. | Take the wings Of morn'ing, | and the Barcon des,ert , pierce,, | Or lose thyself in the continuous woods' | Where rolls the Or'egon, | and...
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