Golden Leaves from the British PoetsBunce and Huntington, 1866 - 546 էջ |
From inside the book
Արդյունքներ 92–ի 1-ից 5-ը:
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... Wind .. Under the Greenwood Tree .... EDMUND SPENSER . Prothalamion .... SIR PHILIP SIDNEY . Love is dead A Ditty ......... SIR WALTER RALEIGH . PAGE I 2 4 7 13 14 The Silent Lover 15 Lines written the Night before his Death ... 16 ...
... Wind .. Under the Greenwood Tree .... EDMUND SPENSER . Prothalamion .... SIR PHILIP SIDNEY . Love is dead A Ditty ......... SIR WALTER RALEIGH . PAGE I 2 4 7 13 14 The Silent Lover 15 Lines written the Night before his Death ... 16 ...
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... wind doth blow , And coughing drowns the parson's saw , And birds sit brooding in the snow , And Marian's nose looks red and raw , When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl , Then nightly sings the staring owl , To - who , Tu - whit , to ...
... wind doth blow , And coughing drowns the parson's saw , And birds sit brooding in the snow , And Marian's nose looks red and raw , When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl , Then nightly sings the staring owl , To - who , Tu - whit , to ...
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... WIND , LOW , blow , thou winter wind , Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen Because thou art not seen , Although thy breath be rude . Heigh ho sing heigh ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is ...
... WIND , LOW , blow , thou winter wind , Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen Because thou art not seen , Although thy breath be rude . Heigh ho sing heigh ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is ...
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... wind ; Nor are ye worn with years ; Or warped , as we , Who think it strange to see Such pretty flowers , like to orphans young , Speaking by tears before ye have a tongue . Speak , whimpering younglings , and make known Or , HERRICK ...
... wind ; Nor are ye worn with years ; Or warped , as we , Who think it strange to see Such pretty flowers , like to orphans young , Speaking by tears before ye have a tongue . Speak , whimpering younglings , and make known Or , HERRICK ...
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... winds give o'er ; So calm are we when passions are no more . For then we know how vain it was to boast Of fleeting things , too certain to be lost . Clouds of affection from our younger eyes Conceal that emptiness which age descries ...
... winds give o'er ; So calm are we when passions are no more . For then we know how vain it was to boast Of fleeting things , too certain to be lost . Clouds of affection from our younger eyes Conceal that emptiness which age descries ...
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Common terms and phrases
art thou beauty beneath blessed blood blow bosom bower breast breath bright brow charm cheek cloud cowslips Cutty-sark dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth eyes face fair falchion fear flowers frae gaze gentle golden grace grave green hand hath head hear heard heart heaven helmet of Navarre Henry of Navarre holy hour king kiss lady land land of mist light lips live Lochaber Locksley Hall look Lord loud Lycidas lyre maid Marmion merry moon morn mother Muse ne'er never night nymph o'er pale passion pride Rory O'More rose round shade sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit star storm sweet tale tears tell tempest thee thine thou art thought Tis green Twas voice wandering wave weary weep wild wind wing young youth
Սիրված հատվածներ
Էջ 358 - Nay, not so," Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low But cheerily still; and said, "I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.
Էջ 99 - How sleep the brave who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! ODE TO MERCY.
Էջ 19 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make Man better be ; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere : A lily of a day Is fairer far in May, Although it fall and die that night — It was the plant and flower of Light. In small proportions we just beauties see ; And in short measures life may perfect be.
Էջ 224 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.
Էջ 36 - Go, lovely rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired: Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired.
Էջ 103 - E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely Contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, — Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn...
Էջ 123 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change his place...
Էջ 40 - YET once more, O ye laurels, and once more, Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forced fingers rude Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear Compels me to disturb your season due; For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.
Էջ 100 - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn Or busy housewife ply her evening care: No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Էջ 223 - The Sun now rose upon the right : Out of the sea came he, Still hid in mist, and on the left Went down into the sea. And the good south wind still blew behind, But no sweet bird did follow, Nor any day for food or play Came to the mariners...