An Anthology of English VerseHoughton Mifflin, 1924 - 368 страница |
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... Slow , slow , fresh fount , from Cynthia's Reuells Her Triumph , from Under- woods Sir Henry Wotton . John Donne Richard Barnefield Ben Jonson Ben Jonson porting Joy Sonnet : I die with too trans- Presenting X Contents.
... Slow , slow , fresh fount , from Cynthia's Reuells Her Triumph , from Under- woods Sir Henry Wotton . John Donne Richard Barnefield Ben Jonson Ben Jonson porting Joy Sonnet : I die with too trans- Presenting X Contents.
Страница 23
... SLOW , SLOW , FRESH FOUNT , FROM CYNTHIA'S REUELLS SLOW , slow , fresh fount , keepe time with my salt teares ; Yet slower , yet , O faintly gentle springs : List to the heavy part the musique beares , Woe weepes out her division , when ...
... SLOW , SLOW , FRESH FOUNT , FROM CYNTHIA'S REUELLS SLOW , slow , fresh fount , keepe time with my salt teares ; Yet slower , yet , O faintly gentle springs : List to the heavy part the musique beares , Woe weepes out her division , when ...
Страница 36
... som more timely - happy spirits indu'th . Yet be it less or more , or soon or slow , It shall be still in strictest measure eev'n , To that same lot , however mean , or high , Toward which Time leads me , and the will of 36 An Anthology.
... som more timely - happy spirits indu'th . Yet be it less or more , or soon or slow , It shall be still in strictest measure eev'n , To that same lot , however mean , or high , Toward which Time leads me , and the will of 36 An Anthology.
Страница 49
... slowly to his azure Lodging run , Come sit but here And presently hee'l quit our Hemisphere , So still among Lovers , time is too short or else too long ; Here will we spin Legends for them that have Love Martyrs been , Here on this ...
... slowly to his azure Lodging run , Come sit but here And presently hee'l quit our Hemisphere , So still among Lovers , time is too short or else too long ; Here will we spin Legends for them that have Love Martyrs been , Here on this ...
Страница 55
... slowly they receive the Sum , It hardly does them good . " Tis cruel to prolong a Pain ; And to defer a Joy ; Believe me , gentle Celemene Offends the winged Boy . An hundred thousand Oaths your Fears Perhaps would not remove ; And if I ...
... slowly they receive the Sum , It hardly does them good . " Tis cruel to prolong a Pain ; And to defer a Joy ; Believe me , gentle Celemene Offends the winged Boy . An hundred thousand Oaths your Fears Perhaps would not remove ; And if I ...
Чести термини и фразе
Adonais ancient Mariner Angels beauty BEN JONSON beneath birds blest breast breath bright brow burning cloud cold dark dead dear death delight doth dream dust earth eccho ring eyes face fair fate fear FEET IN ANCIENT fire flame flowers golden green hair hand happy hath haue head hear heard heart Heaven hills hope I'le JOHN JOHN KEATS JOHN MILTON kiss light live look Lord loue Lover Lycidas Moon Muse ne'er never night numbers o'er pale Pleasure Porphyro RICHARD CRASHAW ROBERT BROWNING ROBERT HERRICK rose round Saint Samian wine shade ship sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song SONNET sorrow soul spirit Spring stars sweet tears tell thee theyr thine things thou art thought Timor Mortis conturbat twas voice WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR weep wild WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings woods
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Страница 171 - 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! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth! And, by the incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! Be through my lips to unawakened earth The...
Страница 171 - 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 77 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He...
Страница 292 - Like one, that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head ; Because he knows, a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.
Страница 35 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. 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.
Страница 150 - Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire ; Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or wak'd to ecstasy the living lyre.
Страница 70 - THE SOLITARY 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 118 - And hears the unexpressive nuptial song In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the Saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Страница 289 - The sails at noon left off their tune, And the ship stood still also. The Sun, right up above the mast, Had fixed her to the ocean: But in a minute she 'gan stir, With a short uneasy motion Backwards and forwards half her length With a short uneasy motion. Then, like a pawing horse let go, She made a sudden bound: It flung the blood into my head, And I fell down in a swound.
Страница 118 - Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor, So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...