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" 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... "
School Reading by Grades: Eighth Year - Page 39
by James Baldwin - 1897 - 240 pages
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The American Common-place Book of Poetry, with Occasional Notes

1839 - 430 pages
...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...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 ...

1840 - 452 pages
...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...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 ...

Association for the Improvement of Juvenile Books - 1841 - 250 pages
...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...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

William Cullen Bryant - 1840 - 292 pages
...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...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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Progressive Exercises in English Composition

Richard Green Parker - 1840 - 138 pages
...slumber, immediately suggest a figurative expression like that beautiful one of Bryant, " All that tread " The globe are but a handful to the tribes " That slumber in its bosom." The facility with which the pupil, after a little practice, with the aid of models and suggestions...
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The American Common-place Book of Poetry: With Occasional Notes

George Barrell Cheever - 1841 - 424 pages
...of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the slill lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber...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 - 1841 - 410 pages
...of death, | 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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The Poets and Poetry of America: With an Historical Introduction

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - 1842 - 638 pages
...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 'If 'linming. and the Barean desert pieree, Or lose thvsclf in the continuous woods Where rolls the...
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Christian Examiner and Theological Review, Volume 31

1842 - 432 pages
...may assume, that since men have lived on this earth, we shall at once see that — " all who tread The Globe, are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom." In the vicinity of Alexandria, of Cairo, and indeed of all the principal cities of Egypt, catacombs...
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The Poets and Poetry of America

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - 1843 - 558 pages
...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...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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