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Llibres Llibres 1 - 10 de 124 sobre The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death....
" 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. "
The Doctrine of Changes as Applicable Both to the Institutions of Social ... - Pągina 520
per Thomas Wright (of Borthwick, Scotland.) - 1844 - 520 pągines
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Specimens of the American Poets

Henry Roscoe - 1822 - 283 pągines
...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...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...
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The Inquirer, Volum 1

1822
...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...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...
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The American First Class Book, Or, Exercises in Reading and Recitation, Llibre 4

John Pierpont - 1823 - 480 pągines
...infinite host of heaven, , Are ginning on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes...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...
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The United States Literary Gazette, Volum 1

1825
...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. So -l..ni thou rest — and what if thou shall fall Unnoticed by the living — and no friend Take...
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English Grammar: With an Improved Syntax. Part I. Comprehending at One View ...

1828 - 180 pągines
...without a vestige ;— Heaven decrees It shall be otherwise, and I submit. THANATOPSIS- BRYANT. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosoro. — Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous...
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The Edinburgh Literary Journal: Or, Weekly Register of Criticism ..., Volum 2

1829
...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...slumber in its bosom. Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the contiguous woods, Where rolls the Oregan, and hears no...
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Kettell, Samuel: Specimens of American Poetry...

1829
...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...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...
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The Edinburgh Literary Journal: Or, Weekly Register of Criticism ..., Volum 2

1829
...infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still laps? of ages— all that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Take the wingg Of momipg, and the Barcnn desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the contiguous woods, Where rolls...
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Sermons

Cornelius Roosevelt Duffie - 1829
...planetary 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. ——Millions — since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep."...
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Specimens of American Poetry: With Critical and Biographical ..., Volum 3

Samuel Kettell - 1829
...of heaven, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread Are shining on the sad abodes of death, 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...
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