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 viii
... SING ON , FAIRY DEVON . J. Hogg 178 • • • 181 • 182 • DOON , THE RIVER . THE BANKS OF DOON · R. Burns . 183 DON , THE RIVER . ADDRESS TO THE DON W. Thom 184 DRUMLEE . THE BRAES O ' DRUMLEE DRYBURGH ABBEY . AT THE GRAVE OF SIR WALTER ...
... SING ON , FAIRY DEVON . J. Hogg 178 • • • 181 • 182 • DOON , THE RIVER . THE BANKS OF DOON · R. Burns . 183 DON , THE RIVER . ADDRESS TO THE DON W. Thom 184 DRUMLEE . THE BRAES O ' DRUMLEE DRYBURGH ABBEY . AT THE GRAVE OF SIR WALTER ...
Side 13
... Sing over silver sand , Happy from morn till even We've watched the seabirds play , And the ocean meeting the heaven In the distance far away , And the gleam of the white - sailed galleys , and the flash of the sunlit spray ! In Masan ...
... Sing over silver sand , Happy from morn till even We've watched the seabirds play , And the ocean meeting the heaven In the distance far away , And the gleam of the white - sailed galleys , and the flash of the sunlit spray ! In Masan ...
Side 23
... sing , While o'er their heads the hazels hing , Or lightly flit on wanton wing In the birks of Aberfeldy . The braes ascend , like lofty wa's , The foamy stream deep - roaring fa's , O'erhung wi ' fragrant spreading shaws , The birks of ...
... sing , While o'er their heads the hazels hing , Or lightly flit on wanton wing In the birks of Aberfeldy . The braes ascend , like lofty wa's , The foamy stream deep - roaring fa's , O'erhung wi ' fragrant spreading shaws , The birks of ...
Side 24
... sing thee a song in thy praise ; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream , Flow gently , sweet Afton , disturb not her dream . Thou stock - dove whose echo resounds through the glen , Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den ...
... sing thee a song in thy praise ; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream , Flow gently , sweet Afton , disturb not her dream . Thou stock - dove whose echo resounds through the glen , Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den ...
Side 30
... singing through the world , In most melodious unconcern . For flowers will grow , and showers will fall , And clouds will travel o'er the sky ; And the great God , who cares for all , He will not let his darlings die . But they shall sing ...
... singing through the world , In most melodious unconcern . For flowers will grow , and showers will fall , And clouds will travel o'er the sky ; And the great God , who cares for all , He will not let his darlings die . But they shall sing ...
Innhold
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Poems of Places Oceana 1 V.; England 4; Scotland 3 V: Iceland ..., Volum 19 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...