The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English LanguageFrancis Turner Palgrave Macmillan and Company, 1888 - 346 oldal |
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1 - 5 találat összesen 53 találatból.
. oldal
... once honoured , to whom no region of English Literature was unfamiliar , and who , whilst rich in all the noble gifts of Nature , was most eminently distinguished by the noblest and the rarest , —just judgment and high- hearted ...
... once honoured , to whom no region of English Literature was unfamiliar , and who , whilst rich in all the noble gifts of Nature , was most eminently distinguished by the noblest and the rarest , —just judgment and high- hearted ...
2. oldal
... once thy heart surprize . Now , Flora , deck thyself in fairest guise : If that ye winds would hear A voice surpassing far Amphion's lyre , Your furious chiding stay ; Let Zephyr only breathe , And with her tresses play . -The winds all ...
... once thy heart surprize . Now , Flora , deck thyself in fairest guise : If that ye winds would hear A voice surpassing far Amphion's lyre , Your furious chiding stay ; Let Zephyr only breathe , And with her tresses play . -The winds all ...
7. oldal
... once adieu : Nor dare I question with my jealous thought Where you may be , or your affairs suppose , But like a sad slave , stay and think of nought Save , where you are , how happy you make those ; - So true a fool is love , that in ...
... once adieu : Nor dare I question with my jealous thought Where you may be , or your affairs suppose , But like a sad slave , stay and think of nought Save , where you are , how happy you make those ; - So true a fool is love , that in ...
14. oldal
... if thy pride did not our joys controul , What world of loving wonders should'st thou see ! For if I saw thee once transform'd in me , Then in thy bosom I would pour my soul ; Then all my thoughts should in thy visage shine , 1+ Book.
... if thy pride did not our joys controul , What world of loving wonders should'st thou see ! For if I saw thee once transform'd in me , Then in thy bosom I would pour my soul ; Then all my thoughts should in thy visage shine , 1+ Book.
16. oldal
... once it was his own , I cherish his because in me it bides : My true - love hath my heart , and I have his . Sir P. Sidney XXV LOVE'S OMNIPRESENCE Were I as base as is the lowly plain , And you , my Love , as high as heaven above , Yet ...
... once it was his own , I cherish his because in me it bides : My true - love hath my heart , and I have his . Sir P. Sidney XXV LOVE'S OMNIPRESENCE Were I as base as is the lowly plain , And you , my Love , as high as heaven above , Yet ...
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Arethuse beauty behold beneath birds blest bonnie bower breast breath bright Brignall brow cheek clouds County Guy dark dead dear death delight dost doth dream earth ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA eyes F. T. PALGRAVE fair Fancy fear flowers frae FRANCIS TURNER PALGRAVE gentle glory Golden Treasury Gray green happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill Kirconnell kiss leaves light live look'd Lord Lord Byron love's Lycidas lyre LYRICAL Milton mind morn mountains Muse ne'er never night Nymph o'er P. B. Shelley pale passion Pindar pleasure poem Poetry poets round Rule Britannia seem'd shade Shakespeare shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit Spring star stream sweet tears thee There's thine thou art thought tree Twas voice waly waly waves weep white-thorn wild winds wings Wordsworth Yarrow youth
Népszerű szakaszok
15. oldal - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no ! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
306. oldal - Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears ; To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
17. oldal - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted...
304. oldal - Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height, Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke, Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife? Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight, And custom lie upon thee with a weight, Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
71. oldal - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
202. oldal - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below — As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
8. oldal - Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee...
93. oldal - Where the great Sun begins his state Robed in flames and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight; While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrow'd land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.
205. oldal - Stern Lawgiver ! yet thou dost wear The Godhead's most benignant grace ; Nor know we anything so fair As is the smile upon thy face : Flowers laugh before thee on their beds And fragrance in thy footing treads ; Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong; And the most ancient heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong.
257. oldal - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly...