The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, 3. kötetLittle, Brown, 1866 |
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1 - 5 találat összesen 69 találatból.
. oldal
... Cloud . 320 To To a Skylark . Ode to Liberty The Waning Moon . Arethusa Song of Proserpine 323 328 329 341 342 345 Hymn of Apollo . Hymn of Pan The Question • 346 347 849 The Two Spirits Letter to Maria Gisborne To Mary " 351 353 364 ...
... Cloud . 320 To To a Skylark . Ode to Liberty The Waning Moon . Arethusa Song of Proserpine 323 328 329 341 342 345 Hymn of Apollo . Hymn of Pan The Question • 346 347 849 The Two Spirits Letter to Maria Gisborne To Mary " 351 353 364 ...
18. oldal
... cloud on the blast , Seeking peace , finding war ; She is here in her car , From afar , and afar . Hum , hum ! I have stung her and wrung her ! The venom is working ; And if you had hung her With canting and quirking , She could not be ...
... cloud on the blast , Seeking peace , finding war ; She is here in her car , From afar , and afar . Hum , hum ! I have stung her and wrung her ! The venom is working ; And if you had hung her With canting and quirking , She could not be ...
25. oldal
... clouds , and some will hold the flaps Of one another's ears between their teeth , To catch the coming hail of comfits in . You , Purganax , who have the gift o ' the gab , Make them a solemn speech to this effect ; I go to put in ...
... clouds , and some will hold the flaps Of one another's ears between their teeth , To catch the coming hail of comfits in . You , Purganax , who have the gift o ' the gab , Make them a solemn speech to this effect ; I go to put in ...
31. oldal
... host , Or like a cloud dyed in the dying day , Unravelled on the blast from a white mountain ; Or like a meteor , or a war - steed's mane , Or water - fall from a dizzy precipice Scattered upon OR , SWELLFOOT THE TYRANT . 31.
... host , Or like a cloud dyed in the dying day , Unravelled on the blast from a white mountain ; Or like a meteor , or a war - steed's mane , Or water - fall from a dizzy precipice Scattered upon OR , SWELLFOOT THE TYRANT . 31.
47. oldal
... and distant spire , Around whose lessening and invisible height Gather among the stars the clouds of night . The dead are sleeping in their sepulchres ; And , EARLY POEMS: A Summer-Evening Church-Yard, Lechlade, Glou- cestershire.
... and distant spire , Around whose lessening and invisible height Gather among the stars the clouds of night . The dead are sleeping in their sepulchres ; And , EARLY POEMS: A Summer-Evening Church-Yard, Lechlade, Glou- cestershire.
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
Apennine Athanase beams beasts beneath blood BOAR Boeotia bosom brain breath bright child clouds cold dark dead death deep delight Devil divine dream earth eternal EUGANEAN HILLS eyes faint fair fear flame flowers gentle gleam grave green grew grief hair hear heard heart heaven Helen hell hope human Italy knew lady LECHLADE light lips live looked Maddalo MAMMON MASQUE OF ANARCHY mighty mind Minotaur Mont Blanc moon mountains never night nursling o'er ocean odour pain pale Peter Bell pigs poem PURGANAX Queen rain Rosalind round scorn SEMICHORUS Sensitive-Plant shadow Shelley silent sleep smile soul sound spirit stars strange stream sweet SWELLFOOT swine Tally-ho tears tempest Thebes thee thine things Thou art thought Tmolus toil tomb tower truth twas tyrant Venice voice waves weep Whilst wild wind wind-flowers wings words
Népszerű szakaszok
322. oldal - That orbed maiden with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor By the midnight breezes strewn ; And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, Which only the angels hear, May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, The stars peep behind her and peer ; And I laugh to see them whirl and flee Like a swarm of golden bees...
326. oldal - Like a glow-worm golden In a dell of dew, Scattering unbeholden Its aerial hue Among the flowers and grass which screen it from the view : Like a rose embowered In its own green leaves, By warm winds deflowered, Till the scent it gives Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves. Sound of vernal showers On the twinkling grass, Rain-awakened flowers All that ever was Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass.
323. oldal - I am the daughter of Earth and Water, And the nursling of the Sky ; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores ; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when with never a stain, The pavilion of heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams, Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.
324. oldal - Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere, Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear, Until we hardly see, — we feel that it is there.
46. oldal - By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks...
321. oldal - Mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail. And whiten the green plains under; And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder. I sift the snow on the mountains below, And their great pines groan aghast; And all the night 'tis my pillow white, While I sleep in the arms of the Blast.
199. oldal - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.
319. oldal - Philosophy The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle.
327. oldal - We look before and after, And pine for what is not; Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
163. oldal - From the sunset's radiant springs. And the soft dreams of the morn (Which like winged winds had borne, To that silent isle which lies Mid remembered agonies, The frail bark of this lone being) Pass, to other sufferers fleeing ; And its ancient pilot, Pain, Sits beside the helm again.