Songs of Three CenturiesJohn Greenleaf Whittier Houghton, Mifflin, 1890 - 383 sider |
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Side 4
... FACE that should content me wondrous well , Should not be fair , but lovely to behold With gladsome cheer , all grief for to ex- pel ; With sober looks so would I that it should Speak without words , such words as none can tell ; The ...
... FACE that should content me wondrous well , Should not be fair , but lovely to behold With gladsome cheer , all grief for to ex- pel ; With sober looks so would I that it should Speak without words , such words as none can tell ; The ...
Side 6
... face ! What may it be , that even in heavenly place That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries ? Sure , if that long with love acquainted eyes Can judge of love , thou feel'st a lover's case ; I read it in thy looks , thy languished grace ...
... face ! What may it be , that even in heavenly place That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries ? Sure , if that long with love acquainted eyes Can judge of love , thou feel'st a lover's case ; I read it in thy looks , thy languished grace ...
Side 8
... face , that seems more fair The more they on it stare ; But her sad eyes , still fastened on the ground , Are governed with goodly modesty , That suffers not one look to glance awry , Which may let in a little thought un- sound . Why ...
... face , that seems more fair The more they on it stare ; But her sad eyes , still fastened on the ground , Are governed with goodly modesty , That suffers not one look to glance awry , Which may let in a little thought un- sound . Why ...
Side 19
... face , That makes simplicity a grace ; Robes loosely flowing , hair as free : Such sweet neglect more taketh me , Than all the adulteries of art , That strike mine eyes , but not my heart . HOW NEAR TO GOOD IS WHAT IS FAIR ! How near to ...
... face , That makes simplicity a grace ; Robes loosely flowing , hair as free : Such sweet neglect more taketh me , Than all the adulteries of art , That strike mine eyes , but not my heart . HOW NEAR TO GOOD IS WHAT IS FAIR ! How near to ...
Side 23
... face was wan ! He said , " Ye are the first that e'er I wished alive again . " He cam ' and lookit again at her ; O gin her skin was white ! " I might hae spared that bonnie face To hae been some man's delight . " " Busk and boun , my ...
... face was wan ! He said , " Ye are the first that e'er I wished alive again . " He cam ' and lookit again at her ; O gin her skin was white ! " I might hae spared that bonnie face To hae been some man's delight . " " Busk and boun , my ...
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Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
angel beauty bells beneath bird blessed bliss bonnie breast breath bright brow busk calm cheek Christabel clouds dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth Edom evermore eyes face fair fear feet flowers frae Glenlogie glory golden grave green Grongar Hill hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill holy hour Inchcape Rock Jackdaw JOHN KEATS Kilmeny kissed lady land lassie light lips live Lochaber lonely look Lord maun morning never night o'er pale praise prayer rest river Lee rose round Saint Agnes SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE shade shine shore sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars sweet tears tell thee thine thou art thought tree vale voice wandering waves weary ween weep wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings Yarrow
Populære avsnitt
Side 18 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Side 186 - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast, — The desert and illimitable air, — Lone wandering, but not lost, All day thy wings have fanned At that far height, the cold thin atmosphere ; Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Side 200 - Hear the sledges with the bells, Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells.' How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars, that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells — From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
Side 61 - Await alike the inevitable hour: The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Side 17 - That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day, As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
Side 102 - River where ford there was none; But, ere he alighted at Nethe'rby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late: For. a laggard in love and a dastard in war Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
Side 17 - And moan the expense of many a vanished sight: Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.
Side 100 - 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. And vital feelings of delight Shall rear her form to stately height. Her virgin bosom swell ; Such thoughts to Lucy I will give While she and I together live Here in this happy dell.
Side 17 - Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least ; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state (Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate...
Side 28 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill : But their strong nerves at last must yield ; They tame but one another still : Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath When they, pale captives,...