The Chilswell Book of English PoetryLongmans, Green, 1924 - 272 oldal |
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1 - 5 találat összesen 29 találatból.
52. oldal
... pain Which to their corses came again , But a troop of spirits blest : ' For when it dawn'd they dropp'd their arms , And cluster'd round the mast ; Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths , And from their bodies pass'd . Around ...
... pain Which to their corses came again , But a troop of spirits blest : ' For when it dawn'd they dropp'd their arms , And cluster'd round the mast ; Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths , And from their bodies pass'd . Around ...
61. oldal
... now the Wedding - Guest Turn'd from the bridegroom's door . He went like one that hath been stunn'd , And is of sense forlorn : A sadder and a wiser man , He rose the morrow morn . Coleridge . 49 The Snare I HEAR a sudden cry of pain 61.
... now the Wedding - Guest Turn'd from the bridegroom's door . He went like one that hath been stunn'd , And is of sense forlorn : A sadder and a wiser man , He rose the morrow morn . Coleridge . 49 The Snare I HEAR a sudden cry of pain 61.
62. oldal
49 The Snare I HEAR a sudden cry of pain ! There is a rabbit in a snare : Now I hear the cry again , But I cannot tell from where . But I cannot tell from where He is calling out for aid ; Crying on the frighten'd air , Making ...
49 The Snare I HEAR a sudden cry of pain ! There is a rabbit in a snare : Now I hear the cry again , But I cannot tell from where . But I cannot tell from where He is calling out for aid ; Crying on the frighten'd air , Making ...
73. oldal
... pain we maun bide . ' Lie still , lie still but a little wee while , Lie still but if we may ; Gin my mother should miss us when she wakes , She ' ll go mad ere it be day . ' ' Fare ye weel , my mother dear ! Fareweel to barn and byre ...
... pain we maun bide . ' Lie still , lie still but a little wee while , Lie still but if we may ; Gin my mother should miss us when she wakes , She ' ll go mad ere it be day . ' ' Fare ye weel , my mother dear ! Fareweel to barn and byre ...
83. oldal
... pain For promis'd joy . Still thou art blest , compar'd wi ' me ! The present only toucheth thee : But , och ! I backward cast my ee On prospects drear ! An ' forward tho ' I canna see , I guess an ' fear ! Burns , 1785 . foggage ...
... pain For promis'd joy . Still thou art blest , compar'd wi ' me ! The present only toucheth thee : But , och ! I backward cast my ee On prospects drear ! An ' forward tho ' I canna see , I guess an ' fear ! Burns , 1785 . foggage ...
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Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
A. E. Housman auld auld lang syne beauty beneath birds blow breath bright Burns calm Cassius cloud cold dark dead dear death deep delight doth dread dream earth echoing Green eyes fair Farewell flowers glory grave green hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven Henry Newbolt hill John Anderson king Kirconnell land Laurence Binyon leaves light live lonely Lord loud Lycidas maun Milton mirth mist moon morning never night o'er pain pale peace Plymouth Hoe poem Quinquereme rest Ring round seem'd Shakespeare Shelley ship shore silent sing sleep song sorrow soul sound spirit Spring stanza stars stood stream sweet syne tears thee thine things thou art thought tree True Thomas Twas voice W. B. Yeats W. H. Davies waves weary wild wind wings woods youth
Népszerű szakaszok
175. oldal - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee!
163. oldal - Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
16. oldal - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
175. oldal - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
174. oldal - MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, > Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk...
162. oldal - THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady ? What men or gods are these?
205. oldal - Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well...
85. oldal - For a' that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that, The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Are higher ranks than a' that. Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that, That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that. For a
18. oldal - O Captain! My Captain! O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain!
26. oldal - 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.