The Chilswell Book of English PoetryRobert Bridges Longmans, Green, 1924 - 272 страница |
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Страница 11
... face of earth around And the road before me . Wealth I seek not , hope nor love , Nor a friend to know me ; All I seek , the heaven above And the road below me . Or let autumn fall on me Where afield I linger , Silencing the bird on ...
... face of earth around And the road before me . Wealth I seek not , hope nor love , Nor a friend to know me ; All I seek , the heaven above And the road below me . Or let autumn fall on me Where afield I linger , Silencing the bird on ...
Страница 12
... face of earth around , And the road before me . Wealth I ask not , hope nor love , Nor a friend to know me . All I ask , the heaven above , And the road below me . Stevenson . On the Hearth - Rug ' LITTLE tongue of red - brown flame ...
... face of earth around , And the road before me . Wealth I ask not , hope nor love , Nor a friend to know me . All I ask , the heaven above , And the road below me . Stevenson . On the Hearth - Rug ' LITTLE tongue of red - brown flame ...
Страница 16
... face that was dead , And we bitterly thought of the morrow : We thought , as we hollow'd his narrow bed And smooth'd down his lonely pillow , That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head , And we far away on the billow ...
... face that was dead , And we bitterly thought of the morrow : We thought , as we hollow'd his narrow bed And smooth'd down his lonely pillow , That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head , And we far away on the billow ...
Страница 19
... faces turning ; Here , Captain ! dear father ! This arm beneath your head ! It is some dream that on the deck You've fallen cold and dead . My Captain does not answer , his lips are pale and still , My father does not feel my arm , he ...
... faces turning ; Here , Captain ! dear father ! This arm beneath your head ! It is some dream that on the deck You've fallen cold and dead . My Captain does not answer , his lips are pale and still , My father does not feel my arm , he ...
Страница 35
... face . Lord , what worth in earth Drew thee down to die ? What therein was worth , Lord , thy death and birth ? What beneath thy sky ? From the height of night , Was not thine the star That led forth with might By no worldly light Wise ...
... face . Lord , what worth in earth Drew thee down to die ? What therein was worth , Lord , thy death and birth ? What beneath thy sky ? From the height of night , Was not thine the star That led forth with might By no worldly light Wise ...
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A. E. Housman auld auld lang syne beauty beneath birds blow breath bright Burns calm Cassius cloud cold dark dead dear death deep delight doth dread dream earth echoing Green eyes fair Farewell flowers glory grave green hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven Henry Newbolt hill John Anderson king Kirconnell land Laurence Binyon leaves light live lonely Lord loud Lycidas maun Milton mirth mist moon morning never night o'er pain pale peace Plymouth Hoe poem Quinquereme rest Ring round seem'd Shakespeare Shelley ship shore silent sing sleep song sorrow soul sound spirit Spring stanza stars stood stream sweet syne tears thee thine things thou art thought tree True Thomas Twas voice W. B. Yeats W. H. Davies waves weary wild wind wings woods youth
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Страница 176 - Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod.
Страница 102 - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee and arbiter of war,— These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride or spoils of Trafalgar.
Страница 174 - 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 85 - For a' that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that, The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Are higher ranks than a' that. Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that, That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that. For a
Страница 18 - O Captain! My Captain! O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain!
Страница 26 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log, at last, dry, bald, and sere: A lily of a day, Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall, and die that night; It was the plant, and flower of light. In small proportions, we just beauties see: And in short measures, life may perfect be.
Страница 199 - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and cranks,* and wanton* wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
Страница 203 - Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild, And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce In notes, with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out, 140 With wanton heed, and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony; That Orpheus...
Страница 4 - Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing ; To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung, as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing die.
Страница 194 - And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.