A Poetry Book of Modern Poets: Consisting of Songs & Sonnets, Odes & Lyrics, Selected and Arranged, with Notes, from the Works of the Modern English and American Poets, Dating from the Middle of the Eighteenth Century to the Present TimeB. Tauchnitz, 1878 - 334 oldal |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 67 találatból.
8. oldal
... eye , a soldier's mien , A feather of the blue , A doublet of the Lincoln green , — No more of me you knew , My love ! No more of me you knew . " This morn is merry June , I trow , The rose is budding fain ; But she shall bloom in ...
... eye , a soldier's mien , A feather of the blue , A doublet of the Lincoln green , — No more of me you knew , My love ! No more of me you knew . " This morn is merry June , I trow , The rose is budding fain ; But she shall bloom in ...
15. oldal
... eye ! -Fair as a star , when only one Is shining in the sky . She lived unknown , and few could know When Lucy ceased to be ; But she is in her grave , and O ! The difference to me ! W. Wordsworth . 16 RECONCILEMENT THROUGH LOSS ...
... eye ! -Fair as a star , when only one Is shining in the sky . She lived unknown , and few could know When Lucy ceased to be ; But she is in her grave , and O ! The difference to me ! W. Wordsworth . 16 RECONCILEMENT THROUGH LOSS ...
23. oldal
... eyes The volume of thy mysteries . I will meet thee on the hill Where , with printless footstep still , The morning in her buskin grey Springs upon her eastern way ; While the frolic zephyrs stir , Playing with the gossamer , And , on ...
... eyes The volume of thy mysteries . I will meet thee on the hill Where , with printless footstep still , The morning in her buskin grey Springs upon her eastern way ; While the frolic zephyrs stir , Playing with the gossamer , And , on ...
25. oldal
... eye Where some lost hero's ashes lie . And oh , as through the mouldering arch , With ivy filled and weeping larch , The night - gale whispers sadly clear , Speaking dear things to fancy's ear , We'll hold communion with the shade Of ...
... eye Where some lost hero's ashes lie . And oh , as through the mouldering arch , With ivy filled and weeping larch , The night - gale whispers sadly clear , Speaking dear things to fancy's ear , We'll hold communion with the shade Of ...
28. oldal
... eyes , his floating hair ! Weave a circle round him thrice , And close your eyes with holy dread , For he on honey - dew hath fed , And drunk the milk of Paradise . Samuel Taylor Coleridge . THE ISLES OF GREECE . THE isles of Greece ,
... eyes , his floating hair ! Weave a circle round him thrice , And close your eyes with holy dread , For he on honey - dew hath fed , And drunk the milk of Paradise . Samuel Taylor Coleridge . THE ISLES OF GREECE . THE isles of Greece ,
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Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
A Poetry-Book of Modern Poets: Consisting of Songs and Sonnets, Odes and ... Amelia Blanford Edwards Nincs elérhető előnézet - 2017 |
A Poetry-Book of Modern Poets: Consisting of Songs and Sonnets, Odes and ... Amelia Blanford Edwards Nincs elérhető előnézet - 2018 |
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
A. C. Swinburne Airly Beacon AUTUMN BARBARA FRITCHIE BELFRY OF BRUGES bells beneath bird blow boys come home breast breath bright CLEON clouds cowslips Cusha D. G. Rossetti daffodil dance dark dear death deep doth dream earth England's dead eyes fair flowers glory golden green hair hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven helmet of Navarre Itylus kisses leaves light lips living Lochinvar look Lord Lord Byron loud maiden Minstrels and maids Modern Poets moon morn never night o'er OZYMANDIAS P. B. Shelley Persephone poem rain river rolling rose round S. T. Coleridge Samian wine shade shadow sigh silent sing sleep slumber snow song sorrow soul sound stars stream summer sweet tears Tennyson Terpander thee thine things thou art thought tree uppe Verse voice waves weep wild wind wings Wordsworth
Népszerű szakaszok
76. oldal - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He...
140. 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 ! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Clustered around by all her starry fays ; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms, and winding mossy ways.
143. oldal - TO A WATERFOWL. WHITHER, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far through their rosy depths dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
227. oldal - Hear the sledges with the bells — Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
218. 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; O listen ! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
62. oldal - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
140. oldal - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet...
148. oldal - And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays; Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; Every clod feels a stir of might, •An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers...
256. oldal - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. I REMEMBER, I remember, The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now, I often wish the night Had borne my breath away!
66. 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.