Red-letter Poems by English Men and WomenT.Y. Crowell, 1885 - 648 sider |
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Side 16
... clouds with orient gold spangle their blue ; Here is the pleasant place- And nothing wanting is , save She , alas ! TO A NIGHTINGALE . SWEET bird , that sing'st away the early hours Of winters past , or coming , void of care , Well ...
... clouds with orient gold spangle their blue ; Here is the pleasant place- And nothing wanting is , save She , alas ! TO A NIGHTINGALE . SWEET bird , that sing'st away the early hours Of winters past , or coming , void of care , Well ...
Side 32
... ended his melodious song An host of angels flew the clouds among , And rapt this swan from his attentive mates , To make him one of their associates In Heaven's fair quire : where now he sings the 32 WILLIAM BROWNE .
... ended his melodious song An host of angels flew the clouds among , And rapt this swan from his attentive mates , To make him one of their associates In Heaven's fair quire : where now he sings the 32 WILLIAM BROWNE .
Side 38
... cloud - capp'd towers , the gorgeous palaces , The solemn temples , the great globe itself ; Yea , all which it inherit shall dissolve ; And , like this insubstantial pageant faded , Leave not a rack behind . We are such stuff As dreams ...
... cloud - capp'd towers , the gorgeous palaces , The solemn temples , the great globe itself ; Yea , all which it inherit shall dissolve ; And , like this insubstantial pageant faded , Leave not a rack behind . We are such stuff As dreams ...
Side 44
... clouds , So honor peereth in the meanest habit . What is the jay more precious than the lark , Because his feathers are more beautif .. > Or is the adder better than the eel , Because his painted skin contents the eyes ? O , no , good ...
... clouds , So honor peereth in the meanest habit . What is the jay more precious than the lark , Because his feathers are more beautif .. > Or is the adder better than the eel , Because his painted skin contents the eyes ? O , no , good ...
Side 49
... clouds in yonder east ; Night's candles are burnt out , and jo- cund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops : I must be gone and live , or stay and die . Juliet . Yon light is not daylight , I know it , I : It is some meteor that ...
... clouds in yonder east ; Night's candles are burnt out , and jo- cund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops : I must be gone and live , or stay and die . Juliet . Yon light is not daylight , I know it , I : It is some meteor that ...
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Red Letter Poems by English Men and Women (Classic Reprint) Thomas Young Crowell Ingen forhåndsvisning tilgjengelig - 2016 |
Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
art thou ARTEMIDORA beauty beneath bless blest blow born bosom breast breath bright brow Camelot charms cheek Childe Harold clouds cold dark dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth eternal eyes fair fear flowers frae friends Giaour glory green hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hills hope hour Inchcape Rock JOHN KEATS King Lady Lady of Shalott land lassie leaves light lips live look Lord Love's lute lyre maid moon morn ne'er never night nymph o'er pain pale poems praise pride rills rose round Samian wine shade shine shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars stream sweet tears tell thee thine thou art thought tree Twas voice wave weary ween weep wild William Wordsworth wind wings youth
Populære avsnitt
Side 420 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before. To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
Side 327 - mid this tumult Kubla heard from far Ancestral voices prophesying war ! The shadow of the dome of pleasure Floated midway on the waves ; Where was heard the mingled measure From the fountain and the caves. . It was a miracle of rare device, A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice ! A damsel with a dulcimer In a vision once I saw : It was an Abyssinian maid And on her dulcimer she played, Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight 'twould win me,...
Side 475 - Darkling I listen; and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still would'st thou sing, and I have ears in vain To thy high requiem become a sod.
Side 269 - The floating clouds their state shall lend To her ; for her the willow bend ; Nor shall she fail to see E'en in the motions of the storm Grace that shall mould the maiden's form By silent sympathy. " The stars of midnight shall be dear To her ; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
Side 179 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath, and near his favourite tree ; Another came : nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he : The next, with dirges due in sad array Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne, — Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Side 52 - With deafning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly," death itself awakes ? Can'st thou, O partial sleep ! give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; And in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king?
Side 455 - Matched with thine, would be all But an empty vaunt, — A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields or waves or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?
Side 7 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make Man better be ; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere : A lily of a day Is fairer far in May, Although it fall and die that night — It was the plant and flower of Light. In small proportions we just beauties see ; And in short measures life may perfect be.
Side 552 - for Aix is in sight ! " How they'll greet us ! " — and all in a moment his roan Rolled neck and crop over ; lay dead as a stone ; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim And with circles of red for his eye-sockets
Side 278 - Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing Boy, But He beholds the light, and whence it flows, He sees it in his joy; The Youth, who daily farther from the east Must travel, still is Nature's Priest, And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended; At length the Man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day. Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a Mother's mind, And no unworthy aim,...