Six Centuries of English Poetry: Tennyson to Chaucer : Typical Selections from the Great PoetsSilver, Burdett, 1892 - 308 oldal |
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1 - 5 találat összesen 18 találatból.
6. oldal
... feeling , a cultivated imagination , and a fancy unrestrained by merely arbitrary limitations are even more indispensable ; that these writers , rebelling against the established order of things , taught that there are elements of true ...
... feeling , a cultivated imagination , and a fancy unrestrained by merely arbitrary limitations are even more indispensable ; that these writers , rebelling against the established order of things , taught that there are elements of true ...
36. oldal
... feeling . As a poet , he belongs to the highest category of English writers ; for poetry is the strongest and most vigorous branch of English literature . In this literature his works are evidently destined to secure a permanent place ...
... feeling . As a poet , he belongs to the highest category of English writers ; for poetry is the strongest and most vigorous branch of English literature . In this literature his works are evidently destined to secure a permanent place ...
38. oldal
... feel I feel it all . Oh evil day if I were sullen While Earth herself 38 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH .
... feel I feel it all . Oh evil day if I were sullen While Earth herself 38 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH .
43. oldal
... Feel the gladness of the May ! What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now forever taken from my sight , Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendor in the grass , of glory in the flower ? We will grieve not , rather ...
... Feel the gladness of the May ! What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now forever taken from my sight , Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendor in the grass , of glory in the flower ? We will grieve not , rather ...
44. oldal
... feels its life in every limb , What should it know of death ? ' * " But it was not so much from the source of animal ... feeling congenial to this , I was often unable to think of external things as having external existence , and I ...
... feels its life in every limb , What should it know of death ? ' * " But it was not so much from the source of animal ... feeling congenial to this , I was often unable to think of external things as having external existence , and I ...
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Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
Æneid ancient ballads bard beauty Ben Jonson biographical note born bright Burns called century Chaucer Christabel Cowper death doth Dryden earth end my song English poetry English Poets Essay eyes Faerie Queene fair fame Feast fire flowers gold Gray Greek happy hast hath hear heart heaven honor Hood John John Dryden JOHN LYDGATE King lady Lady of Shalott literature living London Lord loud Lycidas lyric Milton morning Muse ne'er never night numbers o'er Oliver Goldsmith Paradise Lost poetical poetry Pope praise rhyme ROBERT HENRYSON Robin Robin Hood rose runne softly says sche Shakespeare Shelley short poems sigh sing Sir Patrick Spens sleep soft Sonnets soul sound Spenser stanza stars Stopford Brooke suld Sweet Themmes thee thine thou thought Timotheus unto verse versification wild wind word write
Népszerű szakaszok
70. oldal - Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride, and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.
41. oldal - And unto this he frames his song : Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife ; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little Actor cons another part ; Filling from time to time his
85. oldal - Darkling I listen ; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy 1 Still would'st thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod.
51. oldal - THE SOLITARY REAPER. BEHOLD her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass ! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass ! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen ! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
131. oldal - Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes ; Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm ; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
37. oldal - There was a time when meadow, grove and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore ; — Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
69. oldal - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be: Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee: Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
126. oldal - Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught, The love he bore to learning was in fault.
41. oldal - What was so fugitive ! The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction : not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest — Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of childhood...
44. oldal - The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality ; 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.