A Golden Treasury of Songs and LyricsDuffield, 1911 - 373 страница |
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Страница 15
... soft in touch and sweet in view : Heigh ho , fair Rosaline ! Nature herself her shape admires ; The Gods are wounded in her sight ; And Love forsakes his heavenly fires And at her eyes his brand doth light : Heigh ho , would she were ...
... soft in touch and sweet in view : Heigh ho , fair Rosaline ! Nature herself her shape admires ; The Gods are wounded in her sight ; And Love forsakes his heavenly fires And at her eyes his brand doth light : Heigh ho , would she were ...
Страница 38
... sorrow ; Sweet air blow soft , mount larks aloft To give my Love good - morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind Notes from the lark I ' ll borrow ; Bird , prune thy wing , nightingale sing , To 38 THE GOLDEN TREASURY Facing page.
... sorrow ; Sweet air blow soft , mount larks aloft To give my Love good - morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind Notes from the lark I ' ll borrow ; Bird , prune thy wing , nightingale sing , To 38 THE GOLDEN TREASURY Facing page.
Страница 60
... soft complaining flute In dying notes discovers The woes of hopeless lovers , Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute . Sharp violins proclaim Their jealous pangs and desperation , Fury , frantic indignation , Depth of pains , and ...
... soft complaining flute In dying notes discovers The woes of hopeless lovers , Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute . Sharp violins proclaim Their jealous pangs and desperation , Fury , frantic indignation , Depth of pains , and ...
Страница 67
... soft lays : As killing as the canker to the rose , Or taint - worm to the weanling herds that graze , Or frost to flowers , that their gay wardrobe wear When first the white - thorn blows ; Such , Lycidas , thy loss to shepherd's ear ...
... soft lays : As killing as the canker to the rose , Or taint - worm to the weanling herds that graze , Or frost to flowers , that their gay wardrobe wear When first the white - thorn blows ; Such , Lycidas , thy loss to shepherd's ear ...
Страница 81
... sweet discourse , whose powers Can crown old Winter's head with flowers . Whate'er delight Can make day's forehead bright Or give down to the wings of night . Soft silken hours , Open suns , shady bowers ; 81 SONGS AND LYRICS.
... sweet discourse , whose powers Can crown old Winter's head with flowers . Whate'er delight Can make day's forehead bright Or give down to the wings of night . Soft silken hours , Open suns , shady bowers ; 81 SONGS AND LYRICS.
Чести термини и фразе
adieu Love auld Robin Gray beauty behold beneath birds blest bonnie bower breast breath bright Brignall brow cheek chidden clouds County Guy dark dead dear death deep delight dost doth dream earth eyes fair fear flowers frae gentle glory golden golden slumber gone green happy hast hath Hazeldean hear heard heart heaven Heigh hour Kirconnell kiss leaves light live look'd LORD LORD BYRON love's lover lute Lycidas lyre maid mind morn mountains Muse ne'er never night nonny numbers Nymph o'er P. B. SHELLEY pale pleasure Rosaline rose round seem'd shade SHAKESPEARE shine shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring star stream sweet tears tell thee There's thine thou art thought tree vex'd voice waly waly waves weary weep wild winds wings WORDSWORTH Yarrow youth
Популарни одломци
Страница 173 - For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Haply some hoary-headed Swain may say, 'Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
Страница 210 - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
Страница 356 - My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began ; So is it now I am a man ; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The child is father of the man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
Страница 172 - Th' applause of listening senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes, Their lot forbade: nor circumscribed alone Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined; Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind...
Страница 343 - mid the steep sky's commotion, Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread On the blue surface of thine airy surge, Like the bright hair uplifted from the head Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height The locks of the approaching storm.
Страница 171 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn Or busy housewife ply her evening care: No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Страница 11 - Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee...
Страница 304 - To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core ; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease ; For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
Страница 358 - Ye blessed creatures, I have heard the call Ye to each other make; I see The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee; My heart is at your festival, My head hath its coronal, The fulness of your bliss, I feel — I feel it all. Oh evil day! if I were sullen While Earth herself is adorning This sweet May-morning; And the children are culling On every side In a thousand valleys far and wide, Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm...
Страница 23 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's •waste...