Nightingale Valley: A Collection, Including a Great Number of the Choicest Lyrics and Short Poems in the English LanguageBell and Daldy, 1860 - 288 страница |
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Страница xvi
... Young Lochinvar When the World is burning May and Death Lines to an Indian Air The Death of the Old Year . Lyrics for Legacies Notes Index of First Lines W. Allingham . 254 Playford 255 George Wither . 256 Campbell 258 259 Herrick 260 ...
... Young Lochinvar When the World is burning May and Death Lines to an Indian Air The Death of the Old Year . Lyrics for Legacies Notes Index of First Lines W. Allingham . 254 Playford 255 George Wither . 256 Campbell 258 259 Herrick 260 ...
Страница 6
... Young Frank is chief of Errington , And lord of Langley - dale ; His step is first in peaceful ha ' , His sword in battle keen , " But - aye she loot the tears doon fa ' For Jock o ' Hazeldean . " A chain of gold ye shall not lack , Nor ...
... Young Frank is chief of Errington , And lord of Langley - dale ; His step is first in peaceful ha ' , His sword in battle keen , " But - aye she loot the tears doon fa ' For Jock o ' Hazeldean . " A chain of gold ye shall not lack , Nor ...
Страница 17
... Young and old , women and men ; Many long - forgot , but remember'd then . And first there came a bitter laughter ; And a sound of tears a moment after ; And then a music so lofty and gay , That every morning , day by day , I strive to ...
... Young and old , women and men ; Many long - forgot , but remember'd then . And first there came a bitter laughter ; And a sound of tears a moment after ; And then a music so lofty and gay , That every morning , day by day , I strive to ...
Страница 38
... why so pale ? Why so dull and mute , young sinner , Prithee , why so mute ? Will , when speaking well can't win her , Saying nothing do't ? Prithee , why so mute ? Quit , quit for shame ; this will not move 38 NIGHTINGALE VALLEY .
... why so pale ? Why so dull and mute , young sinner , Prithee , why so mute ? Will , when speaking well can't win her , Saying nothing do't ? Prithee , why so mute ? Quit , quit for shame ; this will not move 38 NIGHTINGALE VALLEY .
Страница 58
... young boy gave an upward glance- " It is the Death of Abel . " The usher took six hasty strides , As smit with sudden pain ; Six hasty strides beyond the place , Then slowly back again : And down he sat beside the lad , And talk'd with ...
... young boy gave an upward glance- " It is the Death of Abel . " The usher took six hasty strides , As smit with sudden pain ; Six hasty strides beyond the place , Then slowly back again : And down he sat beside the lad , And talk'd with ...
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Nightingale Valley: A Collection, Including a Great Number of the Choicest ... William Allingham Приказ није доступан - 2018 |
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Auld Robin Gray BALLAD bells bird bonnie bough bowers breast breath bright burning Busk chamber door cheek Clerk Saunders cold COLERIDGE dance dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth Edom Eugene Aram eyes fair fairy flowers frae Glen grave green grey hair hand happy HARTLEY COLERIDGE hath hear heart heaven heigh-ho hour kiss'd lady Lady Anne Lindsay lay a-thinking leaves light live look'd Lord Lord Randal loud lover melancholy merry mither morning mountain ne'er never Nevermore night o'er pale Quoth the raven Richard Lovelace river rose round sall seem'd shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song SONNET sorrow soul stars sweet tears tempests thee thine thou thought turn'd Twas unto verses violets wave weary weep wild WILLIAM ALLINGHAM WILLIAM BLAKE wind wings WORDSWORTH Yarrow
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Страница 105 - Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For eve^r and for ever when I move. \j^ How dull it is to pause, to make an end, $> To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use ! As tho
Страница 96 - TIGER! Tiger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire?
Страница 143 - Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hillside; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: — Do I wake or sleep?
Страница 39 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn ; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away ! I remember, I remember...
Страница 85 - This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch...
Страница 142 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet...
Страница 160 - IN Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree : Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round : And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
Страница 63 - GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he's a-getting; The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting. That age is best, which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry: For having lost but once your prime, You may...
Страница 25 - Her mantle laps Over my lady's wrist too much,' or 'Paint Must never hope to reproduce the faint Half-flush that dies along her throat.
Страница 141 - O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim...