The Annual Anthology, Հատոր 1

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Robert Southey
T.N. Longman and O. Rees., 1799 - 300 էջ
 

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Էջ 14 - And should my youth, as youth is apt, I know, Some harshness show, All vain asperities, I, day by day, Would wear away ; Till the smooth temper of my age should be Like the high leaves upon the holly tree.
Էջ 217 - Father William replied, I remember 'd that youth would fly fast, And abused not my health and my vigour at first. That I never might need them at last. You are old, Father William, the young man cried. And pleasures with youth pass away, And yet you lament not the days that are gone, Now, tell me the reason, I pray? In the days of my youth...
Էջ 220 - I'll venture my life, She has drank of the Well of St Keyne." " I have left a good woman who never was here...
Էջ 219 - A WELL there is in the west country, And a clearer one never was seen ; There is not a wife in the west country But has heard of the Well of St. Keyne. An oak and an elm tree stand beside, And behind doth an ash-tree grow, And a willow from the bank above Droops to the water below.
Էջ 221 - The happiest draught thou hast drank this day That ever thou didst in thy life. " Or has thy good woman, if one thou hast, Ever here in Cornwall been ? For an if she have, I'll venture my life She has drank of the Well of St Keyne.
Էջ 218 - You are old, father William," the young man cried, " And pleasures with youth pass away; And yet you lament not the days that are gone; Now tell me the reason, I pray.
Էջ 88 - They eat Their daily bread, and draw the breath of heaven Without or thought or thanks ; heaven's roof to them Is but a painted ceiling hung with lamps, No more, that lights them to their purposes. They wander "loose about," they nothing see, Themselves except, and creatures like themselves, Short-lived, short-sighted, impotent to save.
Էջ 217 - I remembered that youth would fly fast, And abused not my health and my vigor at first, That I never might need them at last." " You are old, Father William...
Էջ 14 - So, serious should my youth appear among The thoughtless throng, So would I seem, amid the young and gay More grave than they, That in my age as cheerful I might be As the green winter of the Holly Tree.
Էջ 43 - Sisters! weave the web of death: Sisters! cease; the work is done. Hail the task and hail the hands! Songs of joy and triumph sing! Joy to the victorious bands, Triumph to the younger King! Mortal! thou that hear'st the tale, Learn the tenor of our song; Scotland!

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