A New Library of Poetry and Song, Том 2William Cullen Bryant J. B. Ford, 1877 - 934 страница |
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Страница 529
... Italy fairer to see in the face . Never was lady on earth more true as woman and wife , Larger in judgment and instinct , prouder in manners and life . She stood in the early morning , and said to her maidens , " Bring That silken robe ...
... Italy fairer to see in the face . Never was lady on earth more true as woman and wife , Larger in judgment and instinct , prouder in manners and life . She stood in the early morning , and said to her maidens , " Bring That silken robe ...
Страница 530
... Italy on him : he dreamed in But two great crystal tears were all that faltered her face and died . “ Austrian and priest had joined to double and Holding his hands in hers : - " Out of the Pied- To fame unextinguished when time is no ...
... Italy on him : he dreamed in But two great crystal tears were all that faltered her face and died . “ Austrian and priest had joined to double and Holding his hands in hers : - " Out of the Pied- To fame unextinguished when time is no ...
Страница 548
... Italy waits by the western brine ; And , broad - based under all , Is planted England's oaken - hearted mood , As rich in fortitude As e'er went worldward from the island - wall ! Fused in her candid light , To one strong race all races ...
... Italy waits by the western brine ; And , broad - based under all , Is planted England's oaken - hearted mood , As rich in fortitude As e'er went worldward from the island - wall ! Fused in her candid light , To one strong race all races ...
Страница 627
... ITALY . FROM ITALY . " O ITALY , how DESCRIPTIVE POEMS . 627 Memories of the Middle Ages, when the emper- | ...
... ITALY . FROM ITALY . " O ITALY , how DESCRIPTIVE POEMS . 627 Memories of the Middle Ages, when the emper- | ...
Страница 628
William Cullen Bryant. ITALY . FROM ITALY . " O ITALY , how beautiful thou art ! Yet I could weep , for thou art lying , alas ! Low in the dust ; and they who come admire thee As we admire the beautiful in death . Thine was a dangerous ...
William Cullen Bryant. ITALY . FROM ITALY . " O ITALY , how beautiful thou art ! Yet I could weep , for thou art lying , alas ! Low in the dust ; and they who come admire thee As we admire the beautiful in death . Thine was a dangerous ...
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arms beauty bells beneath blessed blood blow blue brave breast breath bright cold comes cried dark dead dear death deep dream earth eyes face fair fall fear feel fell field fire flowers give gold grave green hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hills hour Italy JOHN king land leaves light live look Lord mind morning never night o'er once pass peace poor rest rise rock rolled rose round seemed seen shore side sing sleep smile song soul sound spirit stand stars stood stream strong sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought thousand Till true turned voice wave wild wind wings wonder young
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Страница 626 - Earth has not anything to show more fair : Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers,, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Страница 815 - MILTON ! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Страница 556 - Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword: His truth is marching on.
Страница 783 - Twas sad as sad could be; And we did speak only to break The silence of the sea! 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. Water, water, everywhere, And all the boards did shrink; Water, water everywhere Nor any drop to drink.
Страница 709 - To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull Night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise; Then to come, in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good morrow, Through the sweet-brier, or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine...
Страница 461 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet — But hark!
Страница 818 - Peace to all such! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; Blest with each talent, and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease; Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Страница 723 - The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Страница 709 - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful jollity, Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek : Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come, and trip it as you go, On the light fantastic toe...
Страница 657 - Hear the tolling of the bells Iron bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people - ah, the people They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who tolling, tolling...