The Poetical Works of Alfred, Lord TennysonCollins' Clear-Type Press, 1900 - 692 oldal |
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1 - 5 találat összesen 100 találatból.
27. oldal
... hand , Droops both his wings , regarding thee , And so would languisl . evermore , Serene , imperial Eleänore . VIII ... hands across the brink Of that deep grave to which I go : Shake hands once more : I cannot sink So far far down ...
... hand , Droops both his wings , regarding thee , And so would languisl . evermore , Serene , imperial Eleänore . VIII ... hands across the brink Of that deep grave to which I go : Shake hands once more : I cannot sink So far far down ...
30. oldal
... hand - in- hand with thee , To wait for death- of all ills , mute careless Apart upon a mountain , tho ' the surge Of some new deluge from a thousand hills Flung leagues of roaring foam into the gorge Below us , as far on as eye could ...
... hand - in- hand with thee , To wait for death- of all ills , mute careless Apart upon a mountain , tho ' the surge Of some new deluge from a thousand hills Flung leagues of roaring foam into the gorge Below us , as far on as eye could ...
31. oldal
... hand , and knew the press return'd , And thought , " My life is sick of sin- gle sleep : O happy bridesmaid , make a happy bride ! " THE LADY OF SHALOTT . PART I. ON either side of the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye , That ...
... hand , and knew the press return'd , And thought , " My life is sick of sin- gle sleep : O happy bridesmaid , make a happy bride ! " THE LADY OF SHALOTT . PART I. ON either side of the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye , That ...
50. oldal
... hand droop'd a crocus : one hand grasp'd The mild bull's golden horn . Or else flush'd Ganymede , his rosy thigh Half - buried in the Eagle's down Sole as a flying star shot thro ' the sky Above the pillar'd town . Nor these alone : but ...
... hand droop'd a crocus : one hand grasp'd The mild bull's golden horn . Or else flush'd Ganymede , his rosy thigh Half - buried in the Eagle's down Sole as a flying star shot thro ' the sky Above the pillar'd town . Nor these alone : but ...
61. oldal
... hand in hand The downward slope to death . Those far - renowned brides of ancient song Peopled the hollow dark , like burn- ing stars , And I heard sounds of insult , shame , and wrong , And trumpets blown for wars ; And clattering ...
... hand in hand The downward slope to death . Those far - renowned brides of ancient song Peopled the hollow dark , like burn- ing stars , And I heard sounds of insult , shame , and wrong , And trumpets blown for wars ; And clattering ...
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
ALFRED TENNYSON answer'd arms Arthur ask'd blood breath Caerleon call'd Camelot child cloud cried Dagonet damsel dark dead dear death dream Dubric earth Enid Enoch ev'n eyes face fair fair lord father fear fell fire flower fool Gareth Gawain Geraint glory golden Guinevere hall hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven holy horse jousts King King Arthur kiss kiss'd knew knight Lady Lady of Shalott land Lavaine light Limours live look'd lord maid maiden Merlin moon morn mother moved never noble o'er once past Prince Queen rode rose round seem'd shadow shame Sir Balin Sir Bedivere Sir Lancelot Sir Pelleas sleep smile song soul spake speak star stept stood sweet tears thee thine things thought thro turn'd vext Vivien voice wild wind wood word
Népszerű szakaszok
515. oldal - Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true. Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind.
135. oldal - 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 the bay ! And the stately ships go on To 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, O Sea ! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.
455. oldal - There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear ; She is coming, my life, my fate ; The red rose cries, ' She is near, she is near ; ' And the white rose weeps, ' She is late;' The larkspur listens, ' I hear, I hear ;' And the lily whispers,
105. oldal - Death closes all: but something ere the end, Some work of noble note may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods. The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks: . The long day wanes : the slow moon climbs : the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until 1 die. It may be that the gulfs...
170. oldal - Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die, Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them...
496. oldal - So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single life, That I, considering everywhere Her secret meaning in her deeds, And finding that of fifty seeds She often brings but one to bear, I falter where I firmly trod, And falling with my weight of cares Upon the great world's altar-stairs That slope thro...
398. oldal - Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon...
59. oldal - Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast, And in a little while our lips are dumb. Let us alone. What is it that will last ? All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past. Let us alone. What pleasure can we have To war with evil ? Is there any peace In ever climbing up the climbing wave ? All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave In silence ; ripen, fall, and cease : Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease.
78. oldal - The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfils himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. Comfort thyself : what comfort is in me ? I have lived my life, and that which I have done May He within himself make pure ! but thou, If thou shouldst never see my face again, Pray for my soul.
75. oldal - So saying, from the ruin'd shrine he stept, And in the moon athwart the place of tombs, Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men, Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, stepping down By zigzag paths, and juts of pointed rock, Came on the shining levels of the lake. There drew he forth the brand Excalibur, And o'er him, drawing it, the winter moon, Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth And sparkled keen with frost against the hilt: For all...