PoemsHenry S. King, 1877 - 379 oldal |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 84 találatból.
5. oldal
... round , And the whirring sail goes round ; Alone and warming his five wits , The white owl in the belfry sits . II . When merry milkmaids click the latch , And rarely smells the new - mown hay , And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch ...
... round , And the whirring sail goes round ; Alone and warming his five wits , The white owl in the belfry sits . II . When merry milkmaids click the latch , And rarely smells the new - mown hay , And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch ...
6. oldal
... round about the fragrant marge From fluted vase , and brazen urn In order , eastern flowers large , Some dropping low their crimson bells Half - closed , and others studded wide With disks and tiars , fed the time With odor in the ...
... round about the fragrant marge From fluted vase , and brazen urn In order , eastern flowers large , Some dropping low their crimson bells Half - closed , and others studded wide With disks and tiars , fed the time With odor in the ...
8. oldal
... round mine ears the livelong bleat O , hither lead thy feet ! Of the thick - fleeced sheep from wattled folds , Upon the ridged wolds , When the first matin - song hath waken'd loud Over the dark dewy earth forlorn , What time the amber ...
... round mine ears the livelong bleat O , hither lead thy feet ! Of the thick - fleeced sheep from wattled folds , Upon the ridged wolds , When the first matin - song hath waken'd loud Over the dark dewy earth forlorn , What time the amber ...
10. oldal
... Round thy neck in subtle ring Make a carcanet of rays , And talk together still , ye In the language wherewith ... rounded periods . Most delicately hour by hour He canvass'd human mysteries , And trod on silk , as if the winds Blew his ...
... Round thy neck in subtle ring Make a carcanet of rays , And talk together still , ye In the language wherewith ... rounded periods . Most delicately hour by hour He canvass'd human mysteries , And trod on silk , as if the winds Blew his ...
11. oldal
... round about the circles of the globes Of her keen eyes In your eye there is death , There is frost in your breath ... rounded arms , and bosoms prest To little harps of gold ; and while they mused , Whispering to each other half in fear ...
... round about the circles of the globes Of her keen eyes In your eye there is death , There is frost in your breath ... rounded arms , and bosoms prest To little harps of gold ; and while they mused , Whispering to each other half in fear ...
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
answer'd arms Arthur ask'd beneath blood blow breath brows Caerleon call'd Camelot child cried damsel dark dead dear death deep Dora dream earth Edwin Morris Enid ev'n evermore Excalibur eyes face fair fear flower fool Gareth Gawain golden Guinevere hall hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven horse hour jousts King King Arthur kiss kiss'd knave knew Lady Lady of Shalott Lancelot land Lavaine light Limours lips live Locksley Hall look look'd lord maid maiden Merlin moon morn mother never night noble o'er once Queen rode rose round seem'd shadow shame Sir Bedivere Sir Kay Sir Lancelot Sir Pelleas sleep smile song soul spake speak star stept stood sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought thro turn'd vext voice weep wild wind words
Népszerű szakaszok
257. oldal - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story ; The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O, sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
85. oldal - For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see, Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be ; Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails, Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with costly bales ; Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rain'da ghastly dew From the nations...
300. oldal - OH yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood; That nothing walks with aimless feet; That not one life shall be destroy'd, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
257. oldal - Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O, sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O love, they die in yon rich sky. They faint on hill or field or river; Our echoes roll from soul to soul. And grow for ever and for ever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, And answer, echoes,...
79. oldal - As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains: but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself, And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil This...
237. oldal - And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea. Where I will heal me of my grievous wound." So said he, and the barge with oar and sail Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere Revolving many memories, till the hull Look'd one black dot against the verge of dawn, And on the mere the wailing died away. But when that moan had past for evermore, The stillness of...
300. oldal - Behold, we know not anything; I can but trust that good shall fall At last — far off — at last, to all, And every winter change to spring. So runs my dream: but what am I? An infant crying in the night: An infant crying for the light: And with no language but a cry.
53. oldal - Excalibur, Which was my pride: for thou rememberest how In those old days, one summer noon, an arm Rose up from out the bosom of the lake, Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, Holding the sword — and how I...
236. oldal - The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfils himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. Comfort thyself : what comfort is in me ? I have lived my life, and that which I have done May He within himself make pure ! but thou, If thou shouldst never see my face again, Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats...
113. oldal - O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still ! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea ! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.