A New Library of Poetry and Song, Volum 1Fords, Howard & Hulbert, 1877 |
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Side xviii
... Sweet , be not proud 69 696 Thanksgiving for his House 323 Time 834 727 Violets . 524 842 Virgins , To the . 425 727 Castara HALLECK , FITZ - GREENE . Guilford , Conn . , 1790-1869 , Alnwick Castle . Burns Fortune Joseph Rodman Drake ...
... Sweet , be not proud 69 696 Thanksgiving for his House 323 Time 834 727 Violets . 524 842 Virgins , To the . 425 727 Castara HALLECK , FITZ - GREENE . Guilford , Conn . , 1790-1869 , Alnwick Castle . Burns Fortune Joseph Rodman Drake ...
Side 22
... sweet blue eye As if he thought to spy , By coyly peeping out , The funny elf that brought That tiny fairy thought Unto his infant mind . Would I some way could find To know just how they seem , Those dreams that infants dream . I ...
... sweet blue eye As if he thought to spy , By coyly peeping out , The funny elf that brought That tiny fairy thought Unto his infant mind . Would I some way could find To know just how they seem , Those dreams that infants dream . I ...
Side 23
... sweet , in every land All men's reverence to command ; For our earthly uses given , And yet musical in heaven . One I know , these names amid , - Beauty " is its meaning hid ; She who wore it made it good With her gracious womanhood ...
... sweet , in every land All men's reverence to command ; For our earthly uses given , And yet musical in heaven . One I know , these names amid , - Beauty " is its meaning hid ; She who wore it made it good With her gracious womanhood ...
Side 27
... sweet confiding Of the child - heart ! Would that I Thus might trust my Heavenly Father , He who hears my feeblest cry . O , the rapture , sweet , unbroken , Of the soul who wrote that prayer ! Children's myriad voices , floating Up to ...
... sweet confiding Of the child - heart ! Would that I Thus might trust my Heavenly Father , He who hears my feeblest cry . O , the rapture , sweet , unbroken , Of the soul who wrote that prayer ! Children's myriad voices , floating Up to ...
Side 30
... sweet son ; his age I cannot children talk . Nor cares he much for childish sports , dotes not For they reckon not by years and months where on bat or ball , he has gone to dwell . But looks on manhood's ways and works , and To us , for ...
... sweet son ; his age I cannot children talk . Nor cares he much for childish sports , dotes not For they reckon not by years and months where on bat or ball , he has gone to dwell . But looks on manhood's ways and works , and To us , for ...
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Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
ALFRED TENNYSON ALICE CARY angel beauty birds blessed bliss bosom boys breast breath bright brow Bryant cheek child cold dark dead dear death doth dream earth ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING eyes face fair father fear feet flowers forever gentle glory golden gone grace grave green hair hand happy hast hath hear heart heaven Heigh-ho hope hour JEAN INGELOW JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER kiss lero light lips live look Lord love thee love's lover maid morning mother ne'er never nevermore night o'er pain poems poet praise prayer ROBERT BURNS ROBERT HERRICK Robin Adair rose round SAMUEL LOVER shadows shine sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit stars sweet tears tell tender There's thine things THOMAS HOOD THOMAS MOORE thou art thought voice weary weep WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT wind words youth
Populære avsnitt
Side 49 - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
Side 425 - The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed— and gazed— but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.
Side 301 - T^EAR no more the heat o' the sun -*- Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages : Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe, and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust. Fear no more the...
Side 242 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Side 243 - Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's and truth's ; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
Side 324 - LEAD, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home — Lead Thou me on! Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene — one step enough for me.
Side 306 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn. Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Side 284 - Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves, Where, other groves and other streams along. With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Side 236 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket...
Side 236 - Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.