Poems, Том 1Edward Moxon, Dover Street, 1843 - 231 страница |
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Страница 110
... dear , so dear , That I would be the jewel That trembles at her ear : For hid in ringlets day and night , I'd touch 110 THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER .
... dear , so dear , That I would be the jewel That trembles at her ear : For hid in ringlets day and night , I'd touch 110 THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER .
Страница 113
... Dear eyes , since first I knew them well . Yet tears they shed : they had their part Of sorrow for when time was ripe , The still affection of the heart Became an outward breathing type , That into stillness past again , And left a want ...
... Dear eyes , since first I knew them well . Yet tears they shed : they had their part Of sorrow for when time was ripe , The still affection of the heart Became an outward breathing type , That into stillness past again , And left a want ...
Страница 114
... dear - who wrought Two spirits to one equal mind- With blessings beyond hope or thought , With blessings which no words can find . Arise , and let us wander forth , To yon old mill across the wolds ; For look , the sunset , south and ...
... dear - who wrought Two spirits to one equal mind- With blessings beyond hope or thought , With blessings which no words can find . Arise , and let us wander forth , To yon old mill across the wolds ; For look , the sunset , south and ...
Страница 119
... Dear mother Ida , harken ere I die . For now the noonday quiet holds the hill : The grasshopper is silent in the grass : The lizard , with his shadow on the stone , Rests like a shadow , and the cicala sleeps . The purple flowers droop ...
... Dear mother Ida , harken ere I die . For now the noonday quiet holds the hill : The grasshopper is silent in the grass : The lizard , with his shadow on the stone , Rests like a shadow , and the cicala sleeps . The purple flowers droop ...
Страница 120
... Dear mother Ida , harken ere I die . Hear me O Earth , hear me O Hills , O Caves That house the cold crown'd snake ! O mountain brooks , I am the daughter of a River - God , Hear me , for I will speak , and build up all My sorrow with ...
... Dear mother Ida , harken ere I die . Hear me O Earth , hear me O Hills , O Caves That house the cold crown'd snake ! O mountain brooks , I am the daughter of a River - God , Hear me , for I will speak , and build up all My sorrow with ...
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Adeline adown ALFRED TENNYSON ARABIAN NIGHTS aweary beauty beneath blow breath brow call me early Camelot cheek cloud dark dead Dear mother Ida death deep divine DOVER STREET dream DYING SWAN Earl was fair earth EDWARD MOXON Eleänore Enone evermore eyes faint fall flame floating flowers folds thy grave forlorn gazing golden prime goose green that folds harken ere Haroun Alraschid hath hear heard heart Heaven Heavily hangs hills hollow kiss Lady Clara Vere Lady of Shalott land lawn Let them rave light Lilian lips live forgotten look'd merman merrily mind moan moon morn New-year night o'er Oriana Queen roll'd rose round saw thro seem'd shadow silver sing sleep slowly smile song soul sound spake spirit star stept sweet tears thee thine thou thought throne turret and tree Vere de Vere voice wander weep wild wind wold
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Страница 170 - ... wavering lights and shadows broke, Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below. 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 169 - 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 72 - To look down to Camelot She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott And moving thro' a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear.
Страница 180 - Those far-renowned brides of ancient song Peopled the hollow dark, like burning stars, And I heard sounds of insult, shame, and wrong, And trumpets blown for wars...
Страница 212 - Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace : Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul, While the stars burn, the moons increase, And the great ages onward roll. Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet. Nothing comes to thee new or strange. Sleep full of rest from head to feet ; Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.
Страница 5 - Her tears fell with the dews at even; Her tears fell ere the dews were dried; She could not look on the sweet heaven, Either at morn or eventide. After the flitting of the bats, When thickest dark did trance the sky, She drew her casement-curtain by, And glanced athwart the glooming flats. 20 She only said, 'The night is dreary, He cometh not,' she said; She said, 'I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!
Страница 155 - I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. The honeysuckle round the porch has wov'n its wavy bowers, And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers ; And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows gray, And I 'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I 'm to be Queen o
Страница 76 - 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 172 - THERE is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or night-dews on still waters between walls Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass; Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes; Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies. Here are cool mosses deep, And thro...
Страница 153 - You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear ; To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad New year ; Of all the glad New-year, mother, the maddest merriest day; For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o