Records of Woman, and Other PoemsWilliam Blackwood and Sons, 1850 - 270 oldal |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 40 találatból.
5. oldal
... poured , I sit and dream Of summer - lands afar , where holy love , Under the vine or in the citron grove , May breathe from terror . Now the night grows deep , And silent as its clouds , and full of sleep . I hear my veins beat . Hark ...
... poured , I sit and dream Of summer - lands afar , where holy love , Under the vine or in the citron grove , May breathe from terror . Now the night grows deep , And silent as its clouds , and full of sleep . I hear my veins beat . Hark ...
7. oldal
... pouring its dark sultry blue Into your glowing hearts ; the bee to you Hath murmured , and the rill . My soul grows faint With passionate yearning , as its quick dreams paint Your haunts by dell and stream - the green , the free , The ...
... pouring its dark sultry blue Into your glowing hearts ; the bee to you Hath murmured , and the rill . My soul grows faint With passionate yearning , as its quick dreams paint Your haunts by dell and stream - the green , the free , The ...
9. oldal
... poured , Thou'rt where the dancers meet ! A magic glass Is set within my soul , and proud shapes pass , Flushing it o'er with pomp from bower and hall : I see one shadow , stateliest there of all— Thine ! What dost thou amidst the ...
... poured , Thou'rt where the dancers meet ! A magic glass Is set within my soul , and proud shapes pass , Flushing it o'er with pomp from bower and hall : I see one shadow , stateliest there of all— Thine ! What dost thou amidst the ...
10. oldal
... poured— The stricken love which hath perchance adored A mortal in thy place ! Now let me strive With thy strong arm no more ! Forgive , forgive ! Take me to peace ! And peace at last is nigh . A sign is on my brow , a token sent The o ...
... poured— The stricken love which hath perchance adored A mortal in thy place ! Now let me strive With thy strong arm no more ! Forgive , forgive ! Take me to peace ! And peace at last is nigh . A sign is on my brow , a token sent The o ...
14. oldal
... Pouring out joy and woe , I have found that holy place of rest Still changeless - yet I go ! Lips , that have lulled me with your strain ! Eyes , that have watched my sleep ! Will earth give love like yours again ? · Sweet mother ! let ...
... Pouring out joy and woe , I have found that holy place of rest Still changeless - yet I go ! Lips , that have lulled me with your strain ! Eyes , that have watched my sleep ! Will earth give love like yours again ? · Sweet mother ! let ...
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ARABELLA STUART art thou banners bard beauty beneath bird blue bosom bowers breast breath breeze bright brow CADER IDRIS CASWALLON cheek child cloud crown dark dead death deep dream dwell earth fair FAIR ISLE farewell fear flowers gaze gentle glad glance gleam gloom glory glow GLYNDWR'S gone grave green grief Gwynedd hall harp hath heart heaven hills holy hour hushed JOANNA BAILLIE leaves light Llywarch Hen lone look lyre midst mother mournful murmur night o'er OWAIN CYFEILIOG pale passed planxty poured proud ringdove rose round shadow shining silent singing sleep smile Snowdon soft solemn song soul sound spirit star stood storm stream strong sunny sweet swell sword tears thee thine thou art Thou hast Thou'rt thought tomb tone Twas unto voice wandering warriors wave weep Welsh whisper wild winds woods young
Népszerű szakaszok
143. oldal - Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted came; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame; Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear; They shook the depths of the desert gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer. Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free. The ocean eagle soared From his nest by the white waves' foam; And the rocking pines of the forest roared—...
192. oldal - HAIL to thee, blithe spirit ! Bird thou never wert, That from heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
135. oldal - We roll In light and power on high ; But, of the never-dying soul, Ask that which cannot die.
164. oldal - O'er each fair sleeping brow ; She had each folded flower in sight, — Where are those dreamers now ? One, 'midst the forests of the West, By a dark stream is laid, — The Indian knows his place of rest, Far in the cedar shade. The sea, the blue, lone sea, hath one, He lies where pearls lie deep, — He was the loved of all, yet none O'er his low bed may weep.
96. oldal - Through glowing orchards forth they peep, Each from its nook of leaves ; And fearless there the lowly sleep, As the bird beneath their eaves.
142. oldal - And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore. Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted came, Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame...
163. oldal - THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD. THEY grew in beauty side by side. They filled one home with glee ; Their graves are severed far and wide, By mount, and stream, and sea.
164. oldal - ... O'er his low bed may weep. One sleeps where southern vines are drest Above the noble slain : He wrapt his colours round his breast On a blood-red field of Spain. And one — o'er her the myrtle showers Its leaves, by soft winds fanned ; She faded midst Italian flowers — The last of that bright band. And parted thus they rest, who played Beneath the same green tree ; Whose voices mingled as they prayed Around one parent knee...
134. oldal - And what have ye found in the monarch's dome, Since last ye traversed the blue sea's foam ?— " We have found a change, we have found a pall, And a gloom o'ershadowing the banquet's hall, And a mark on the floor as of life-drops spilt— Nought looks the same, save the nest we built!
159. oldal - Rome, Rome ! thou art no more As thou hast been ! Rome ! thine imperial brow Never shall rise : What hast thou left thee now ? — Thou hast thy skies ! Blue, deeply blue, they are.