The Blue Poetry BookAndrew Lang Longmans, Green, 1892 - 264 oldal |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 12 találatból.
9. oldal
... bonny bride When they have slain her lover ? ' Outspoke the hardy Highland wight , ' I'll go , my chief — I'm ready ; It is not for your silver bright , But for your winsome lady : ' And by my word ! the bonny bird In danger shall not ...
... bonny bride When they have slain her lover ? ' Outspoke the hardy Highland wight , ' I'll go , my chief — I'm ready ; It is not for your silver bright , But for your winsome lady : ' And by my word ! the bonny bird In danger shall not ...
54. oldal
... bonny blue e'en : Wi ' ae lock o ' his gowden hair , We'll theek our nest when it grows bare . ' Mony a one for him makes mane , But nane sall ken whae he is gane : O'er his white banes , when they are bare , The wind sall blaw for ...
... bonny blue e'en : Wi ' ae lock o ' his gowden hair , We'll theek our nest when it grows bare . ' Mony a one for him makes mane , But nane sall ken whae he is gane : O'er his white banes , when they are bare , The wind sall blaw for ...
62. oldal
... bonny bird , When shall I marry me ? ' - ' When six braw gentlemen Kirkward shall carry ye . ' ' Who makes the bridal bed , Birdie , say truly ? ' — ' The grey - headed sexton That delves the grave duly . " The glow - worm o'er grave ...
... bonny bird , When shall I marry me ? ' - ' When six braw gentlemen Kirkward shall carry ye . ' ' Who makes the bridal bed , Birdie , say truly ? ' — ' The grey - headed sexton That delves the grave duly . " The glow - worm o'er grave ...
70. oldal
... bonny ship , And set her to the main ; With twenty - four brave mariners To sail her out and hame . But the weary wind began to rise , The sea began to rout , And my Love and his bonny ship Turn'd withershins about . There shall no ...
... bonny ship , And set her to the main ; With twenty - four brave mariners To sail her out and hame . But the weary wind began to rise , The sea began to rout , And my Love and his bonny ship Turn'd withershins about . There shall no ...
83. oldal
... bonny lass , That kindles my mother's fire ! ' Allen - a - Dale UNKNOWN . ALLEN - A - DALE has no fagot for burning , Allen - a - Dale has no furrow for turning , Allen - a - Dale has no fleece for the spinning , Yet Allen - a - Dale ...
... bonny lass , That kindles my mother's fire ! ' Allen - a - Dale UNKNOWN . ALLEN - A - DALE has no fagot for burning , Allen - a - Dale has no furrow for turning , Allen - a - Dale has no fleece for the spinning , Yet Allen - a - Dale ...
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
ancient Annabel Lee appeared ballad beautiful became beneath bird bonny born brave breath bright Cambridge Charles Lamb Christabel CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE cloud Cumnor dead dear death deep delight doth Edinburgh Edinburgh Review England English eyes fair father finest flowers gallant Gray green Hall hand hath hear heard heart Heart of Midlothian heaven hill Irish King Kinmont Willie lady Lamb land later light live London look'd Lord loud Lycidas Marlowe Mary Ambree merry Milton Minstrel Minstrelsy moon morn mother ne'er never night o'er Otterbourne plays poet poetry prose published Queen rose Scott Scottish Border Shakespeare ship sing Sir Patrick Spens Sir Walter Scott sleep song soul sound sung Surtees sweet tell thee thou Twas voice volume of poems waves weary wild WILLIAM JULIUS MICKLE wind WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED Wordsworth written wrote Yarrow youth
Népszerű szakaszok
71. 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. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers...
207. oldal - Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd muse, The place of fame and elegy supply: And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who to dumb Forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day.
64. oldal - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted...
67. oldal - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
61. oldal - The Solitary Reaper Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; 0 listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
33. oldal - At length, upon the harp, with glee, Mingled with arch simplicity, A soft, yet lively, air she rung, While thus the wily lady sung : LOCHINVAR. O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; And save his good broadsword he weapons had none, He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
206. oldal - Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre. But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul. Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village Hampden that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton, here may...
28. oldal - It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise ! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies ; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes. Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing, Onward through life he goes ; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close ; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose.
130. oldal - TO HELEN. Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
153. oldal - Around, around, flew each sweet sound, Then darted to the Sun; Slowly the sounds came back again, Now mixed, now one by one. Sometimes a-dropping from the sky I heard the sky-lark sing; Sometimes all little birds that are, How they seemed to fill the sea and air With their sweet jargoning! And now 'twas like all instruments, Now like a lonely flute; And now it is an angel's song, That makes the heavens be mute.