The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English LanguageMacmillan, 1889 - 405 страница |
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Страница 10
... heaven with my bootless cries , And look upon myself , and curse my fate ; Wishing me like to one more rich in hope , Featured like him , like him with friends possest , Desiring this man's art , and that man's scope , With what I most ...
... heaven with my bootless cries , And look upon myself , and curse my fate ; Wishing me like to one more rich in hope , Featured like him , like him with friends possest , Desiring this man's art , and that man's scope , With what I most ...
Страница 12
... the clear in highest sphere Where all imperial glory shines , Of selfsame colour is her hair Whether unfolded , or in twines : Heigh ho , fair Rosaline ! Her eyes are sapphires set in snow , Resembling heaven 123 The Golden Treasury.
... the clear in highest sphere Where all imperial glory shines , Of selfsame colour is her hair Whether unfolded , or in twines : Heigh ho , fair Rosaline ! Her eyes are sapphires set in snow , Resembling heaven 123 The Golden Treasury.
Страница 13
Francis Turner Palgrave. Her eyes are sapphires set in snow , Resembling heaven by every wink ; The Gods do fear whenas they glow , And I do tremble when I think Heigh ho , would she were mine ! Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud ...
Francis Turner Palgrave. Her eyes are sapphires set in snow , Resembling heaven by every wink ; The Gods do fear whenas they glow , And I do tremble when I think Heigh ho , would she were mine ! Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud ...
Страница 15
... heaven shines , And often is his gold complexion dimm'd : And every fair from fair sometime declines , By chance , or nature's changing course , untrimm'd . But thy eternal summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou ...
... heaven shines , And often is his gold complexion dimm'd : And every fair from fair sometime declines , By chance , or nature's changing course , untrimm'd . But thy eternal summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou ...
Страница 16
... heaven's breath . Air , quoth he , thy cheeks may blow ; Air , would I might triumph so ! But , alack , my hand is sworn Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn : Vow , alack , for youth unmeet ; Youth so apt to pluck a sweet . Do not call ...
... heaven's breath . Air , quoth he , thy cheeks may blow ; Air , would I might triumph so ! But , alack , my hand is sworn Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn : Vow , alack , for youth unmeet ; Youth so apt to pluck a sweet . Do not call ...
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adieu Love Arethuse beauty behold beneath birds blest bonnie bower breast breath bright Brignall brow cheek chidden clouds County Guy dark dead dear death deep delight dost doth dream earth ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA eyes fair Fancy fear flowers frae gentle glory Gray green happy hast hath Hazeldean hear heard heart heaven Heigh hills Kirconnell kiss ladies leaves light live look'd Lord Lord Byron love's lover Lycidas lyre maid mind morn mountains Muse ne'er never night nonny Nymph o'er P. B. Shelley pale passion Pindar pleasure poems poet Poetry Rosaline rose round Rule Britannia seem'd shade Shakespeare shore sigh sight sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring star stream sweet tears thee There's thine thou art thought tree voice waly waly waves weep wild winds wings Wordsworth Yarrow youth
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Страница 22 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's •waste...
Страница 174 - Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village Hampden that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Th...
Страница 76 - 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.
Страница 21 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the 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...
Страница 353 - Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, spirit fierce. My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!
Страница 356 - THE world is too much with us: late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not.
Страница 6 - Under the Greenwood Tree Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun And loves to live i...
Страница 66 - 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. Who would not sing for Lycidas?
Страница 91 - 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. Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee ; How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous, sweet, and fair.
Страница 192 - I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 0 Solitude ! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms Than reign in this horrible place.