The Poetical Works of George HerbertD. Appleton, 1857 - 256 oldal |
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
AFFLICTION art thou beleeve blessed bloud brave breast breath Christ Church crie dayes deare death delight dimme doore doth drest drie dust earth Egypt ev'n ev'ry eyes farre fear flesh flie flower foes foul giv'n give glorie grace Greece grief grone grow Hast thou hath head heare heart heav'n hell hither holy HOLY BAPTISME honour joyes King leave LENOX LIBRARY let thy light live look Lord lust lute mend minde mirth musick night once peace pleasure poore posie praise thee rest runne Saviour shew shine show thy sigh sing sinne skie sonne sorrow soul starres stay stone sunne sure sweet sweetly sweetnesse tears thine things thou art thou canst thou didst thou dost thou hast thou mayst thou shalt thou wilt thoughts thy hand thy love thy praise thyself unto vertue wayes weep Wherefore winde words wouldst
Népszerű szakaszok
193. oldal - Not so, my heart! But there is fruit, And thou hast hands. Recover all thy sigh-blown age On double pleasures. Leave thy cold dispute Of what is fit and not.
239. oldal - I cannot look on thee. Love took my hand, and smiling did reply, Who made the eyes but I ? Truth, Lord, but I have marred them : let my shame Go where it doth deserve.
233. oldal - TEACH me, my God and King, In all things thee to see, And what I do in any thing, To do it as for thee...
53. oldal - Whereas my birth and spirit rather took The way that takes the town, Thou didst betray me to a ling'ring book And wrap me in a gown.
92. oldal - Whom, if we were not very dull, We could not choose but look on still, Since there is no place so alone, The which he doth not fill.
227. oldal - I aspire To a full consent. Not a word or look I affect to own, But by book, And thy book alone. Though I fail, I weep : Though I halt in pace, Yet I creep To the throne of grace.
209. oldal - THE FLOWER. How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean Are Thy returns ! e'en as the flowers in spring , To which, besides their own demean, The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring. Grief melts away Like snow in May, As if there were no such cold thing.
108. oldal - The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die. Sweet Rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die.
184. oldal - KING of glory, King of peace, , I will love Thee ; And, that love may never cease, I will move Thee. Thou hast granted my request, Thou hast heard me : Thou didst note my working breast, Thou hast spared me. Wherefore with my utmost art I will sing Thee, And the cream of all my heart I will bring Thee.
112. oldal - MY God, I heard this day, That none doth build a stately habitation But he that means to dwell therein. What house more stately hath there been, Or can be, than is Man ? to whose creation All things are in decay.