The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English LanguageOxford University Press, 1921 - 496 страница |
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Francis Turner Palgrave. That she may thy career with roses spread : The nightingales thy coming each - where sing : Make an eternal Spring ! Give life to this dark world which lieth dead Spread forth thy golden hair In ... roses spread : ...
Francis Turner Palgrave. That she may thy career with roses spread : The nightingales thy coming each - where sing : Make an eternal Spring ! Give life to this dark world which lieth dead Spread forth thy golden hair In ... roses spread : ...
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... roses And a thousand fragrant posies , A cap of flowers , and a kirtle Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle . A gown made of the finest wool , Which from our pretty lambs we pull , Fair linéd slippers for the cold , With buckles of the ...
... roses And a thousand fragrant posies , A cap of flowers , and a kirtle Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle . A gown made of the finest wool , Which from our pretty lambs we pull , Fair linéd slippers for the cold , With buckles of the ...
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... rose : in it thou art my all . W. Shakespeare XVIII To me , fair Friend , you never can be old , For as you were when first your eye I eyed Such seems your beauty still . Three winters ' cold Have from the forests shook three summers ...
... rose : in it thou art my all . W. Shakespeare XVIII To me , fair Friend , you never can be old , For as you were when first your eye I eyed Such seems your beauty still . Three winters ' cold Have from the forests shook three summers ...
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... rose his tomb , Disdains to crop a weed , and will not come . W. Drummond LXII DIRGE OF LOVE Come away , come away , Death , And in sad cypres let me be laid ; Fly away , fly away , breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid . My shroud ...
... rose his tomb , Disdains to crop a weed , and will not come . W. Drummond LXII DIRGE OF LOVE Come away , come away , Death , And in sad cypres let me be laid ; Fly away , fly away , breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid . My shroud ...
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... roses be your lips , or your lips the roses . Anon . LXXI ROSALYND'S MADRIGAL Love in my bosom , like a bee , Doth suck his sweet ; Now with his wings he plays with me , Now with his feet . Within mine eyes he makes his nest , His bed ...
... roses be your lips , or your lips the roses . Anon . LXXI ROSALYND'S MADRIGAL Love in my bosom , like a bee , Doth suck his sweet ; Now with his wings he plays with me , Now with his feet . Within mine eyes he makes his nest , His bed ...
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A. H. Clough Alfred Noyes beauty beneath birds breast breath bright cheek County Guy dark dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth Elizabeth of Bohemia eyes face fair fear flowers glory golden gone grave gray green grief hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hills hour Itylus John Masefield kiss land leaves light live look look'd Lord Byron Lord Houghton Lord Tennyson love's Lycidas lyre morn mountains ne'er never night numbers o'er once passion poem poet poetry rest Robin Gray rose Rossetti round seem'd shade Shakespeare sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit Spring stars sweet tears tell Theocritus thine things thou art thought thro tree turn'd Twas voice vrom waves weary weep wild wind wings Wordsworth Yarrow youth