Poems, Том 1E. Moxon, 1846 - 235 страница |
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Страница 8
... beneath her gather'd wimple Glancing with black - beaded eyes , Till the lightning laughters dimple The baby - roses in her cheeks ; Then away she flies . Prythee weep , May Lilian ! Gaiety without eclipse Wearieth me , May Lilian ...
... beneath her gather'd wimple Glancing with black - beaded eyes , Till the lightning laughters dimple The baby - roses in her cheeks ; Then away she flies . Prythee weep , May Lilian ! Gaiety without eclipse Wearieth me , May Lilian ...
Страница 20
... And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch Twice or thrice his roundelay , Twice or thrice his roundelay : Alone and warming his five wits , The white owl in the belfry sits . SECOND SONG . TO THE SAME . THY tuwhits are SONG THE OWL.
... And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch Twice or thrice his roundelay , Twice or thrice his roundelay : Alone and warming his five wits , The white owl in the belfry sits . SECOND SONG . TO THE SAME . THY tuwhits are SONG THE OWL.
Страница 24
... beneath the dome Of hollow boughs . - A goodly time , For it was in the golden prime Of good Haroun Alraschid . Still onward ; and the clear canal Is rounded to as clear a lake . From the green rivage many a fall Of diamond rillets 24 ...
... beneath the dome Of hollow boughs . - A goodly time , For it was in the golden prime Of good Haroun Alraschid . Still onward ; and the clear canal Is rounded to as clear a lake . From the green rivage many a fall Of diamond rillets 24 ...
Страница 25
... beneath the prow . A goodly place , a goodly time , For it was in the golden prime Of good Haroun Alraschid . VI . Above thro ' many a bowery turn A walk with vary - colour'd shells Wander'd engrain'd . On either side All round about ...
... beneath the prow . A goodly place , a goodly time , For it was in the golden prime Of good Haroun Alraschid . VI . Above thro ' many a bowery turn A walk with vary - colour'd shells Wander'd engrain'd . On either side All round about ...
Страница 30
... beneath her rose - hued zone ; The sweetest lady of the time , Well worthy of the golden prime Of good Haroun Alraschid . XIV . Six columns , three on either side , Pure silver , underpropt a rich Throne of the massive ore , from which ...
... beneath her rose - hued zone ; The sweetest lady of the time , Well worthy of the golden prime Of good Haroun Alraschid . XIV . Six columns , three on either side , Pure silver , underpropt a rich Throne of the massive ore , from which ...
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66 O mother Adeline adown BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER BEN JONSON beneath blow bound in morocco breath brow call me early Camelot cheek cloth dark Dear mother Ida death deep dream Earl was fair earth EDITION EDWARD MOXON Eleänore elegantly bound Enone ESSAYS OF ELIA evermore eyes fall floating flowers folds thy grave forlorn GEORGE DARLEY golden prime goose green that folds harken ere Haroun Alraschid HARTLEY COLERIDGE hath hear heard heart Heaven kiss Lady Clara Vere Lady of Shalott land LEIGH HUNT Let them rave light Lilian lips look look'd moon morn night o'er Oriana POEMS Portrait and Vignette price 16s Queen roll'd round saw thro seem'd shadow sing sleep slowly smile song soul star stept sweet tears thee thine THOMAS CAMPBELL thou thought thro turret and tree Vere de Vere voice volume 8vo weary wild WILLIAM GIFFORD wind
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Страница 157 - Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 'Tis only noble to be good. Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood.
Страница 175 - They saw the gleaming river seaward flow From the inner land: far off, three mountain-tops, Three silent pinnacles of aged snow, Stood sunset-flush'd: and, dew'd with showery drops, Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse. The charmed sunset linger'd low adown In the red West: thro...
Страница 174 - Breathing like one that hath a weary dream. Full-faced above the valley stood the moon; And like a downward smoke, the slender stream Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem. A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke, Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go; And some thro' wavering lights and shadows broke, Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below.
Страница 181 - Before them of the ten years' war in Troy, And our great deeds, as half-forgotten things. Is there confusion in the little isle? Let what is broken so remain. The Gods are hard to reconcile: 'Tis hard to settle order once again. There is confusion worse than death, Trouble on trouble, pain on pain, Long...
Страница 14 - My life is dreary, He cometh not,' she said ; She said, ' I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead...
Страница 13 - In the white curtain, to and fro, She saw the gusty shadow sway. But when the moon was very low, And wild winds bound within their cell, The shadow of the poplar fell Upon her bed, across her brow. She only said, ' The night is dreary, He cometh not...
Страница 122 - Had lost his way between the piney sides Of this long glen. Then to the bower they came, Naked they came to that smooth-swarded bower, And at their feet the crocus brake like fire, Violet, amaracus, and asphodel, Lotos and lilies : and a wind arose, And overhead the wandering ivy and vine, This way and that; in many a wild festoon Ran riot, garlanding the gnarled boughs With bunch and berry and flower thro
Страница 78 - Camelot; And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below, The island of Shalott. Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Thro' the wave that runs for ever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls, and four gray towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott.
Страница 81 - The gemmy bridle glitter'd free, Like to some branch of stars we see Hung in the golden Galaxy. The bridle bells rang merrily As he rode down to Camelot : And from his blazon'd baldric slung A mighty silver bugle hung, And as he rode his armour rung, Beside remote Shalott.
Страница 156 - Lady Clara Vere de Vere, You put strange memories in my head. Not thrice your branching limes have blown Since I beheld young Laurence dead. Oh your sweet eyes, your low replies : A great enchantress you may be ; But there was that across his throat Which you had hardly cared to see. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, When thus he met his mother's view, She had the passions of her kind, She spake some certain truths of you. Indeed I heard one bitter word That scarce is fit for you to hear ; Her manners had...