The PoemsTicknor and Fields, 1866 - 419 oldal |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 35 találatból.
vii. oldal
... Wine 356 Summer's Bacchanal 359 Storm - Lines 361 The Two Visions 363 The Life of Earth 364 Storm Song 366 Song 367 The Waves 367 Song 369 Wordsworth 370 Sonnet • 371 Steyermark The Tomb of Charlemagne The Wayside Dream • To a Bavarian ...
... Wine 356 Summer's Bacchanal 359 Storm - Lines 361 The Two Visions 363 The Life of Earth 364 Storm Song 366 Song 367 The Waves 367 Song 369 Wordsworth 370 Sonnet • 371 Steyermark The Tomb of Charlemagne The Wayside Dream • To a Bavarian ...
19. oldal
... wine , When the least crumb they cast aside Were manna for these lips of mine . I see the friend of other days Lead home his flushed and silent bride : His eyes are suns of tender praise , Her eyes are stars of tender pride . Go , hide ...
... wine , When the least crumb they cast aside Were manna for these lips of mine . I see the friend of other days Lead home his flushed and silent bride : His eyes are suns of tender praise , Her eyes are stars of tender pride . Go , hide ...
20. oldal
... wine , Grow thin and stale , but rouse thyself , at last , And take a man's revenge upon the Past . What have thy virtues brought thee ? Let them go , And with them lose the burden of thy woe , Their only payment for thy service hard ...
... wine , Grow thin and stale , but rouse thyself , at last , And take a man's revenge upon the Past . What have thy virtues brought thee ? Let them go , And with them lose the burden of thy woe , Their only payment for thy service hard ...
22. oldal
... wine of the banquet cups With the mould their lips have shed . The pulse of the bacchant blood May throb in the ivy wreath , But the berries are plucked from the nightshade bough That grows in the gardens of Death . I sleep with joy at ...
... wine of the banquet cups With the mould their lips have shed . The pulse of the bacchant blood May throb in the ivy wreath , But the berries are plucked from the nightshade bough That grows in the gardens of Death . I sleep with joy at ...
52. oldal
... wine , from grapes that ripened on The sunniest hillsides of the smooth Garonne . When Arthur slept , and doors were closed , and we Sat folded in a sweeter privacy Than even the secret - loving moon bestows , Spoke Ernest : " Edith ...
... wine , from grapes that ripened on The sunniest hillsides of the smooth Garonne . When Arthur slept , and doors were closed , and we Sat folded in a sweeter privacy Than even the secret - loving moon bestows , Spoke Ernest : " Edith ...
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
Arab arms art thou beam beauty beneath blessing bliss blood blossoms blue bosom breast breath bright brow burning calm CEDARCROFT cloud cold cried crown Damascus dark dead dear desert dreams dumb Earth evermore eyes fair fire flame flowers fold gleam glory glow gold golden hair hand happy headland hear heart Heaven hills hurled Hylas immortal Irem kiss land leaves Lebanon lift light limbs lips lives look Love's lute mighty moon morn mountain Naiads never night o'er Orpheus pain Pard passion pines purple rapture repose rose round sand sang Scamander shade Shammar shine shore silent silver sing sleep snow song sorrow soul sound spirit splendor stars storm streams summer Surtur sweet sweeter Tarshish tears tender thee thine thou art three guardsmen Tmolus tree trumpets unto voice wandering warm waves weary wild wild hope winds wine wings
Népszerű szakaszok
83. oldal - The wind in the reeds and the rushes, The bees on the bells of thyme, The birds on the myrtle bushes, The cicale above in the lime, And the lizards below in the grass, Were as silent as ever old Tmolus was Listening to my sweet pipings.
245. oldal - Voice after voice caught up the song, Until its tender passion Rose like an anthem rich and strong, — Their battle-eve confession. Dear girl, her name he dared not speak, But, as the song grew louder, Something upon the soldier's cheek Washed off the stains of powder. Beyond the darkening ocean burned The bloody sunset's embers, While the Crimean valleys learned How English love remembers. And...
134. oldal - From the Desert I come to thee On a stallion shod with fire; And the winds are left behind In the speed of my desire. Under thy window I stand, And the midnight hears my cry: I love thee, I love but thee, With a love that shall not die Till the sun grows cold, And the stars are old, And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!
407. oldal - General," still persisting, the weeping veteran cried, "I'm young enough to follow, so long as you're my guide; And some, you know, must bite the dust, and that, at least, can I, So give the young ones place to fight, but me a place to die!
196. oldal - All outward wisdom yields to that within, Whereof nor creed nor canon holds the key ; We only feel that we have ever been, And evermore shall be. And thus I know, by memories unfurled In rarer moods, and many a nameless sign, That once in Time, and somewhere in the world, I was a towering Pine...
406. oldal - An old and crippled veteran to the War Department came; He sought the Chief who led him on many a field of fame; The Chief who shouted "Forward!" where'er his banner rose, And bore its stars in triumph behind the flying foes. "Have you forgotten, General," the battered soldier cried, "The days of Eighteen Hundred Twelve, when I was at your side?
276. oldal - But the Wind is sad and restless, And cursed with an inward pain ; You may hark as you will, by valley or hill, But you hear him still complain. He wails on the barren mountains, And shrieks on the wintry sea; He sobs in the cedar, and moans in the ' pine. And shudders all over the aspen tree.
266. oldal - But Ruth is still a Friend at heart; she keeps the simple tongue, The cheerful, kindly nature we loved when she was young; And it was brought upon my mind, remembering her, of late, That we on dress and outward things perhaps lay too much weight. I once heard Jesse Kersey say, a spirit clothed with grace, And pure, almost, as angels are, may have a homely face.
319. oldal - The pescador, out in his shallop, Gathering his harvest so wide, Sees the dim bulk of the headland Loom over the waste of the tide ; He sees, like a white thread, the pathway Wind round on the terrible wall, Where the faint, moving speck of the rider Seems hovering close to its fall.
262. oldal - First-day afternoons in spring, and watch the swallows flit : He loved to smell the sprouting box, and hear the pleasant bees Go humming round the lilacs and through the apple-trees.