The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English Language: Selected and Arranged with Notes. Book fourthFrederick A. Stokes Company, 1890 - 266 страница |
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Страница 10
... thou wouldst wend with me , To leave both tower and town , Thou first must guess what life lead we That dwell by dale and down . And if thou canst that riddle read , As read full well you may , Then to the greenwood shalt thou speed ...
... thou wouldst wend with me , To leave both tower and town , Thou first must guess what life lead we That dwell by dale and down . And if thou canst that riddle read , As read full well you may , Then to the greenwood shalt thou speed ...
Страница 13
... thou art ! O lift me from the grass ! I die , I faint , I fail ! Let thy love in kisses rain . On my lips and eyelids pale . My cheek is cold and white , alas ! My heart beats loud and fast ; O press it close to thine again Where it ...
... thou art ! O lift me from the grass ! I die , I faint , I fail ! Let thy love in kisses rain . On my lips and eyelids pale . My cheek is cold and white , alas ! My heart beats loud and fast ; O press it close to thine again Where it ...
Страница 16
... Thou needest not fear mine ; My spirit is too deeply laden Ever to burthen thine . I fear thy mien , thy tones , thy motion ; Thou needest not fear mine ; Innocent is the heart's devotion With which I worship thine . 12 13 THE LOST LOVE ...
... Thou needest not fear mine ; My spirit is too deeply laden Ever to burthen thine . I fear thy mien , thy tones , thy motion ; Thou needest not fear mine ; Innocent is the heart's devotion With which I worship thine . 12 13 THE LOST LOVE ...
Страница 20
... thou could'st have died , I might not weep for thee ; But I forgot when by thy side , That thou could'st mortal be . ' [ From a song by C. Wolfe , the author of The Burial of Sir John Moore . ' ] CLXXXI No. 16. Written in 1804 . The ...
... thou could'st have died , I might not weep for thee ; But I forgot when by thy side , That thou could'st mortal be . ' [ From a song by C. Wolfe , the author of The Burial of Sir John Moore . ' ] CLXXXI No. 16. Written in 1804 . The ...
Страница 28
... thou delay ? So fair thy pensile beauty burns When soft the tear of twilight flows ; So due thy plighted love returns To chambers brighter than the rose ; To Peace , to Pleasure , and to Love So kind a star thou seem'st to be , Sure ...
... thou delay ? So fair thy pensile beauty burns When soft the tear of twilight flows ; So due thy plighted love returns To chambers brighter than the rose ; To Peace , to Pleasure , and to Love So kind a star thou seem'st to be , Sure ...
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Чести термини и фразе
Alfoxden Argument.-The Author's note beauty behold beneath birds bonny bower Braes of Yarrow breath bright Brignall Busk ye child cloud Clovenford Compare County Guy dark dead dear death deep delight dost doth dream earth eyes fair fear feel flowers frae glory gone Grasmere green H. F. Lyte happy hath hear heard heart heaven hills Keats lady leaves light lines live look Lord Byron lover Milton mind moon morning mountain mournful Nature's ne'er Neidpath Castle never night o'er P. B. Shelley Paradise Paradise Lost Piobaireachd pleasure poem poet Prometheus Unbound Revolt of Islam round S. T. Coleridge seem'd Shelley's silent sing sleep smile soft song sonnet sorrow soul spirit Spring star storm stream sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought Tintern Abbey trees twas verse voice wandering waves weep wild wind-flowers winds wings woods Wordsworth Written youth
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Страница 74 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
Страница 55 - And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave ! For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave...
Страница 235 - What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind.
Страница 38 - And there she lulled me asleep And there I dream'd— Ah! woe betide! The latest dream I ever dream'd On the cold hill's side. I saw pale kings, and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried— "La Belle Dame sans Merci Hath thee in thrall!
Страница 120 - ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk...
Страница 127 - Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Страница 134 - Reaper Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Страница 68 - 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 13 - I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright : I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Has led me — who knows how ? — To thy chamber-window, sweet ! The wandering airs they faint On the dark, the silent stream — The champak odours fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream ; The nightingale's complaint, It dies upon her heart...
Страница 245 - With a soft inland murmur. — Once again Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, That on a wild secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion ; and connect The landscape with the quiet of the sky.