Poems of Places Oceana 1 V.; England 4; Scotland 3 V: Iceland, Switzerland, Greece, Russia, Asia, 3 America 5, Volum 6 |
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Side 29
... pride , of pomp , and sin , So freely let us lift the latch , The willing latch that says , " Come in . " Plain dwelling this ! a narrow door , No carpet by soft sandals trod , 2 . TA A Fearm : The star sig sel ALLOWAY . 29 ALLOWAY ...
... pride , of pomp , and sin , So freely let us lift the latch , The willing latch that says , " Come in . " Plain dwelling this ! a narrow door , No carpet by soft sandals trod , 2 . TA A Fearm : The star sig sel ALLOWAY . 29 ALLOWAY ...
Side 51
... pride ; But , asking , was told there was none else beside , Except an old weaver , who now kept a school , And these were the whole that were in Auchtertool . To his mansion I scampered , and rapped at the door ; He oped , but as soon ...
... pride ; But , asking , was told there was none else beside , Except an old weaver , who now kept a school , And these were the whole that were in Auchtertool . To his mansion I scampered , and rapped at the door ; He oped , but as soon ...
Side 59
... wi ' the view Of sic an ugly Gothic hulk as you . - AULD BRIG . Conceited gowk , puffed up wi ' windy pride ! This monie a year I've stood the flood and tide ; And though wi ' crazy eild I'm sair forfairn , AYR , THE RIVER . 59.
... wi ' the view Of sic an ugly Gothic hulk as you . - AULD BRIG . Conceited gowk , puffed up wi ' windy pride ! This monie a year I've stood the flood and tide ; And though wi ' crazy eild I'm sair forfairn , AYR , THE RIVER . 59.
Side 64
... pride ; For love and poesy allied ; For strangely blended right and wrong . I picture you as one who kneeled A stranger at his own hearthstone ; One knowing all , yet all unknown , One seeing all , yet all concealed ; The fitful years ...
... pride ; For love and poesy allied ; For strangely blended right and wrong . I picture you as one who kneeled A stranger at his own hearthstone ; One knowing all , yet all unknown , One seeing all , yet all concealed ; The fitful years ...
Side 69
... pride might climb the slippery steep , Where fame and honors lofty shine ; And thirst of gold might tempt the deep , Or downward seek the Indian mine ; Give me the cot below the pine , To tend the flocks or till the soil , And every day ...
... pride might climb the slippery steep , Where fame and honors lofty shine ; And thirst of gold might tempt the deep , Or downward seek the Indian mine ; Give me the cot below the pine , To tend the flocks or till the soil , And every day ...
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Poems of Places Oceana 1 V. ; England 4; Scotland 3 V: Iceland ..., Volum 9 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Ingen forhåndsvisning tilgjengelig - 2016 |
Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
Airly Beacon amang Auchtertool auld Ballochmyle banks of Ayr Ben Lomond beneath Bennachie birds birks birks of Aberfeldy Blaavin blithe bloom blue bonnie Doon bonnie lass bonny wood bosom bower braes Branksome Hall brave breast BRIG bright Carmyle Castle Charlie clouds Clyde Coquet Water corri Craig Elachie Craigcrook Craigcrook Roses Craigie Lea Cutty-sark dark David Macbeth Moir dear deep Doon dream fair Farewell flowers frae Gadie rins gleaming glen gray green ha'e heart heaven Highland land lassie Lochiel Lomond lone loud Mary mony morn mountain mourn mournfully ne'er night o'er pale proud River roar Robert Burns Robert Tannahill rock round sang scene shade shore sing Sir Walter Scott smile Stand fast stood stray stream summer sweet sword thee thine Thou bonny torrents towers tree vale wander wave weary Whare wild William Wordsworth wind wood of Craigie
Populære avsnitt
Side 187 - She should have died hereafter; There would have been a time for such a word. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death.
Side 45 - O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie; For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace Our parting was fu' tender; And pledging aft to meet again, We tore oursels asunder; But, Oh!
Side 46 - Mary ! dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast...
Side iii - From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go mark him well : For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; Despite those titles, power and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored and unsung.
Side ix - Come away, come away, Hark to the summons! Come in your war- array, Gentles and commons. Come from deep glen, and From mountain so rocky; The war-pipe and pennon Are at Inverlochy. Come every hill-plaid, and True heart that wears one, Come every steel blade, and Strong hand that bears one.
Side 155 - Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down! Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain, And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain.
Side x - MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS. MY heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here ; My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer ; Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
Side 25 - SHANTER: A TALE Of Brownyis and of Bogillis full is this buke. — GAWIN DOUGLAS. When chapman billies leave the street, And drouthy neebors neebors meet, As market-days are wearing late, An' folk begin to tak the gate, While we sit bousing at the nappy, An...
Side 30 - Tam wi' furious ettle ; But little wist she Maggie's mettle — Ae spring brought off her master hale, But left behind her ain gray tail : The carlin claught her by the rump, And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. Now, wha this tale o...
Side iii - BREATHES there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand...