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" BREAK, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea ! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play ! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on... "
Tennyson's Complete Works: (Including Queen Mary) - 86. oldal
szerző: Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1876
Teljes nézet - Információ erről a könyvről

The Cambridge Book of Poetry and Song

Charlotte Fiske Bates - 1832 - 1022 oldal
...thoughts that arise in me. Oh, well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at ell fo Oh, well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat...stately ships go on To their haven under the hill: But oh, for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still ! Break, break, break,...

Poems, 2. kötet

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1842 - 252 oldal
...thy cold gray stones, O Sea ! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with...crags, O Sea ! But the tender grace of a day that is dead THE POET'S SONG. THE rain had fallen, the Poet arose, He pass'd by the town, and out of the...

The Christian Teacher, 4. kötet

1842 - 538 oldal
...thoughts that arise in me. " O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play ! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat...of a day that is dead Will never come back to me." Vol. ii. p. 229. Yet there are parts of these volumes which appear to us objectionable. We would rather...

Poems, 2. kötet

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1842 - 250 oldal
...thoughts that arise in me. O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat...still ! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, 0 Sea ! But the tender grace of a day that is dead THE POET'S SONG. THE rain had fallen, the Poet arose,...

Poems, 2. kötet

Alfred Tennyson (1st baron.) - 1843 - 256 oldal
...to my marriage-morn, And round again to happy night. BREAK, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea ! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts...still ! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, 0 Sea ! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me. THE POET'S SONG. THE...

Calcutta Review, 31. kötet

1858 - 598 oldal
...thoughts that arise in me. O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play ! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat...grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to uie." In one though a very low sense, the fisher-boy in his boat on the laughing sea, the youth when...

The Living Age, 213. kötet

1897 - 986 oldal
...cistern." Look at this verse wrung from the greatest poet of our own day by the death of his friend:— Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O sea...a day that is dead Will never come back to me. The sea's voice breaking on its "cold, grey stones" has sung a song of natural and inevitable fate; and...

Poems

Alfred Tennyson (1st baron.) - 1845 - 510 oldal
...thoughts that arise in me. O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play ! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat...their haven under the hill ; But 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,...

Poems, 2. kötet

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1846 - 254 oldal
...thoughts that arise in me. 0 well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play ! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat...still ! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, 0 Sea ! But the tender grace of a day that is dead THE POET'S SONG. THE rain had fallen, the Poet arose,...

Poetry for Home and School ...

1846 - 436 oldal
...stately ships go on To the haven under the hill ; But, O, for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still ! Break, break, break,...of a day that is dead Will never come back to me. MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN Burns. WHEN chill November's surly blast Made fields and forests bare, One evening,...




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