A poetry-book of modern poets, selected and arranged by A. B. EdwardsAmelia Ann Blanford Edwards 1879 |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 6 találatból.
62. oldal
... rolling rapidly . ' Tis morn , but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war - clouds , rolling dun , Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulph'rous canopy . GATHERING SONG OF DONALD THE BLACK . The combat deepens Hohenlinden.
... rolling rapidly . ' Tis morn , but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war - clouds , rolling dun , Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulph'rous canopy . GATHERING SONG OF DONALD THE BLACK . The combat deepens Hohenlinden.
123. oldal
... rolling evermore . Then , sing ye birds , sing , sing a joyous song ! And let the young lambs bound As to the tabor's sound ! We , in thought , will join your throng , Ye that pipe and ye that play , Ye that through your hearts to - day ...
... rolling evermore . Then , sing ye birds , sing , sing a joyous song ! And let the young lambs bound As to the tabor's sound ! We , in thought , will join your throng , Ye that pipe and ye that play , Ye that through your hearts to - day ...
176. oldal
... rolling river hath kissed ; And I lift my sad eyes To see her sail past through a rift in the mist That is veiling the skies . And I think of the rest , in the dark waters near , To its stony bed given ; And I think of that light ...
... rolling river hath kissed ; And I lift my sad eyes To see her sail past through a rift in the mist That is veiling the skies . And I think of the rest , in the dark waters near , To its stony bed given ; And I think of that light ...
231. oldal
... rolling On the human heart a stone- They are neither man nor woman— They are neither brute nor human— They are Ghouls : And their king it is who tolls ; And he rolls , rolls , rolls , Rolls A pæan from the bells ! And his merry bosom ...
... rolling On the human heart a stone- They are neither man nor woman— They are neither brute nor human— They are Ghouls : And their king it is who tolls ; And he rolls , rolls , rolls , Rolls A pæan from the bells ! And his merry bosom ...
232. oldal
... rolling of the bells- Of the bells , bells , bells- To the tolling of the bells- Of the bells , bells , bells , bells— Bells , bells , bells- To the moaning and the groaning of the bells . E. A. Poe . THE HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OF ...
... rolling of the bells- Of the bells , bells , bells- To the tolling of the bells- Of the bells , bells , bells , bells— Bells , bells , bells- To the moaning and the groaning of the bells . E. A. Poe . THE HIGH TIDE ON THE COAST OF ...
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Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
A Poetry-Book of Modern Poets, Selected and Arranged by A. B. Edwards Amelia Ann Blanford Edwards Nincs elérhető előnézet - 2016 |
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
A. C. Swinburne Airly Beacon AUTUMN BARBARA FRITCHIE BATTLE OF IVRY BELFRY OF BRUGES bells beneath bird boat boys come home breast breath bright Charlemagne CLEON clouds coronach Cusha D. G. Rossetti dark dear death deep doth dream earth England's dead eyes Faintlier fair flowers foam gleam glory golden green hair hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven ITYLUS kisses leaves light LINCOLNSHIRE Lochinvar look Lord Lord Lytton loud March month Minstrels and maids Modern Poets moon nest never night o'er once OZYMANDIAS P. B. Shelley Persephone poem rain river rose round S. T. Coleridge Samian wine sand shade sigh silent sing sleep slumber snow song sorrow soul sound stars STORM summer sweet tears thee thine thou art thought tree uppe Verse voice waters waves weary weep wild wind wings Wordsworth
Népszerű szakaszok
75. oldal - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
133. oldal - 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.
109. oldal - As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief: A timely utterance gave that thought relief, And I again am strong: The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep; No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay...
130. 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.
219. 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...
62. oldal - They say it was a shocking sight after the field was won; for many thousand bodies here lay rotting in the sun; but things like that, you know, must be after a famous victory. Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won, and our good Prince Eugene. "Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!" said little Wilhelmine. "Nay... nay... my little girl," quoth he, "it was a famous victory. And everybody praised the Duke who this great fight did win." "But what good came of it at last?" quoth little Peterkin. "Why that I...
114. oldal - What was so fugitive! The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction: not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast...
130. 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...
36. oldal - The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up, He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup. She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,— "Now tread we a measure!
129. 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...