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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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The Poets and Poetry of America: With an Historical Introduction

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - American poetry - 1842 - 468 pages
...slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings 'If 'linming. and the Barean desert pieree, Or lose thvsclf in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound •*•,• his own dashings — yet the dead are there; And millions in those solitudes, since first...
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The Poets and Poetry of America

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - American poetry - 1843 - 476 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 clashings — yet the dead are there ; And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years...
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Readings in American Poetry: For the Use of Schools

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - American poetry - 1843 - 264 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 sound THANATOTSIS. 15 Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there ; And millions in those solitudes,...
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Poems

William Cullen Bryant - 1843 - 276 pages
...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 woods Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no sound. THANATOPSIS. Save his own (lashings—yet—the dead are there : And millions...
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Chambers's Edinburgh Journal

Edinburgh (Scotland) - 1843
...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,...woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save hia own dashlngs ; yet — tho dead are there ; And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight...
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The American Common-school Reader and Speaker: Being a Selection of Pieces ...

John Goldsbury, William Russell - American literature - 1844 - 428 pages
...Through the still ' lapse of ages. All that triad The globe II are but a HANDFUL II to the tribes ' That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings Of morning,...pierce, Or lose thyself | in the continuous woods II Where rolls the "Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings, — yet — the DEAD II are...
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The Church

1860
...has trodden the crowded streets of the Chinese city, and trembled with a nameless awe — ..... " iu the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings." He has mused over the ruins of the ancient world ; temples, palaces, theatres, hippodromes, he has...
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The American Common-school Reader and Speaker: Being a Selection of Pieces ...

John Goldsbury, William Russell - Readers - 1844 - 428 pages
...of heaven, 40 Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Or lose thyself | in the continuous woods II Where rolls the ^Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings, — yet — the DEAD II are thire, And MILLIONS in those solitudes, since first ' 5 The flight of years \ began, have laid...
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The Freemasons' Monthly Magazine, Volume 3

Freemasonry - 1844
...country, and with the force of some long pent-up river, it is flowing from the Atlantic coast, to ' The continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashing.' But the greater its prosperity the greater is the necessity of watchful care, of conforming...
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The Eclectic Magazine of Foreign Literature, Science, and Art, Volume 6

1867
...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 Barean desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods, Where rolls ihe Oregon — and hears...
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