The Poems of Tennyson: 1830-1865Cassell, 1907 - 596 oldal |
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1 - 5 találat összesen 100 találatból.
43. oldal
... face . " " " Is this the form , " she made her moan , " That won his praises night and morn ? And " Ah , " she said , " but I wake alone , I sleep forgotten , I wake forlorn . " Nor bird would sing , nor lamb would bleat , Nor any cloud ...
... face . " " " Is this the form , " she made her moan , " That won his praises night and morn ? And " Ah , " she said , " but I wake alone , I sleep forgotten , I wake forlorn . " Nor bird would sing , nor lamb would bleat , Nor any cloud ...
48. oldal
... face ; And a languid fire creeps Thro ' my veins to all my frame , Dissolvingly and slowly soon From thy rose - red lips My name Floweth ; and then , as in a swoon , With dinning sound my ears are rife , My tremulous tongue faltereth ...
... face ; And a languid fire creeps Thro ' my veins to all my frame , Dissolvingly and slowly soon From thy rose - red lips My name Floweth ; and then , as in a swoon , With dinning sound my ears are rife , My tremulous tongue faltereth ...
52. oldal
... face , As near this door you sat apart , And rose , and , with a silent grace Approaching , press'd you heart to heart . Ah , well - but sing the foolish song I gave you , Alice , on the day When , arm in arm , we went along , A pensive ...
... face , As near this door you sat apart , And rose , and , with a silent grace Approaching , press'd you heart to heart . Ah , well - but sing the foolish song I gave you , Alice , on the day When , arm in arm , we went along , A pensive ...
60. oldal
... face how much I hate Her presence , hated both of Gods and men . " O mother , hear me yet before I die . Hath he not sworn his love a thousand times , In this green valley , under this green hill , Ev'n on this hand , and sitting on ...
... face how much I hate Her presence , hated both of Gods and men . " O mother , hear me yet before I die . Hath he not sworn his love a thousand times , In this green valley , under this green hill , Ev'n on this hand , and sitting on ...
84. oldal
... face The star - like sorrows of immortal eyes , Spoke slowly in her place . " I had great beauty : ask thou not my name : No one can be more wise than destiny . Many drew swords and died . Where'er I came I brought calamity . " " No ...
... face The star - like sorrows of immortal eyes , Spoke slowly in her place . " I had great beauty : ask thou not my name : No one can be more wise than destiny . Many drew swords and died . Where'er I came I brought calamity . " " No ...
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Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
answer'd arms Arthur beneath blood blow breath brows Caerleon call'd Camelot cheek child cried dark dead dear death deep dipt Dora dream earth Edwin Morris Enid Enoch evermore Excalibur eyes face fair Fair lord father fear flower Geraint golden Guinevere hall hand happy hath head hear heard heart Heaven Hesper hills hour jousts King King Arthur kiss kiss'd knew Lady Lady of Shalott Lancelot land Lavaine light Limours lips live Locksley Hall look look'd lord maid maiden moon morn mother move never night noble o'er once passion Prince Queen rode roll'd rose round seem'd shadow shame silent sing Sir Bedivere Sir Lancelot sleep smile song soul spake speak spoke star stept stood summer sweet tears thee thine things thou thought thro turn'd unto vext voice weep wild wind words
Népszerű szakaszok
296. oldal - Ring in the valiant man and free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.
343. oldal - Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean. Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. " Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
234. oldal - We have but faith: we cannot know; For knowledge is of things we see; And yet we trust it comes from thee, A beam in darkness : let it grow. Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before, But vaster.
342. oldal - The splendour 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.
232. oldal - " Charge for the guns ! " he said ; Into the valley of death Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade!
152. oldal - Myself not least, but honor'd of them all; And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move.
113. oldal - And if indeed I cast the brand away, Surely a precious thing, one worthy note, Should thus be lost for ever from the earth, Which might have pleased the eyes of many men. What good should follow this, if this were done ? What harm, undone ? Deep harm to disobey, Seeing obedience is the bond of rule. Were it well to obey then, if a king demand An act unprofitable, against himself ? The King is sick, and knows not what he does.
343. oldal - Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds To dying ears, when unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more. Dear as remember'd kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more!
215. oldal - I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley. By thirty hills I hurry down, Or slip between the ridges, By twenty thorps, a little town, And half a hundred bridges. Till last by Philip's farm I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever.
112. oldal - I am so deeply smitten thro' the helm That without help I cannot last till morn. Thou therefore take my brand 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...