The Poetical Works of Alfred Tennyson, Poet Laureate, Etc: Complete in Two VolumesTicknor and Fields, 1861 |
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Страница 264
... Florian , my two friends : The first , a gentleman of broken means , ( His father's fault , ) but given to starts and bursts Of revel ; and the last , my other heart , And almost my half - self , for still we moved Together , twinned ...
... Florian , my two friends : The first , a gentleman of broken means , ( His father's fault , ) but given to starts and bursts Of revel ; and the last , my other heart , And almost my half - self , for still we moved Together , twinned ...
Страница 265
... Florian , unperceived , Cat - footed through the town , and half in dread To hear my father's clamor at our backs , With Ho ! from some bay - window shake the night ; But all was quiet : from the bastioned walls Like threaded spiders ...
... Florian , unperceived , Cat - footed through the town , and half in dread To hear my father's clamor at our backs , With Ho ! from some bay - window shake the night ; But all was quiet : from the bastioned walls Like threaded spiders ...
Страница 272
... Florian , but no livelier than the dame That whispered " Asses ears among the sedge , " My sister . " " Comely too by all that's fair , " Said Cyril . " O , hush , hush ! " and she began . " " " This world was once a fluid haze of light ...
... Florian , but no livelier than the dame That whispered " Asses ears among the sedge , " My sister . " " Comely too by all that's fair , " Said Cyril . " O , hush , hush ! " and she began . " " " This world was once a fluid haze of light ...
Страница 276
... Florian is not cold , But branches current yet in kindred veins . ” " Are you that Psyche , " Florian added , “ she With whom I sang about the morning hills , Flung ball , flew kite , and raced the purple fly , And snared the squirrel ...
... Florian is not cold , But branches current yet in kindred veins . ” " Are you that Psyche , " Florian added , “ she With whom I sang about the morning hills , Flung ball , flew kite , and raced the purple fly , And snared the squirrel ...
Страница 277
... Florian ; holding out her lily arms , Took both his hands , and smiling faintly said : " I knew you at the first : though you have grown , You scarce have altered : I am sad and glad To see you , Florian . I give thee to death , My ...
... Florian ; holding out her lily arms , Took both his hands , and smiling faintly said : " I knew you at the first : though you have grown , You scarce have altered : I am sad and glad To see you , Florian . I give thee to death , My ...
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answer arms beneath betwixt blazoned blow breast breath brows Camelot cataract cheek child cloud crown Cyril dark dead dear death deep dipt Dora dream dropt earth Edwin Morris evermore Excalibur eyes face fair fall Florian flowers flying folds forever hand happy harken ere hath head hear heard heart Heaven hollow hour king King Arthur kiss knew Lady of Shalott Lady Psyche land Let them rave light lips live Locksley Hall look Lord maid maiden measured words mermen moon morn mother Ida move murmur night o'er Oriana Princess Princess Ida Queen rode rolled rose round sang scorn seemed shadow shame SIMEON STYLITES Sir Bedivere sleep smile song soul sound spake speak spoke star stept stood summer sweet tears thee thine things thou thought touch turned unto vext voice weary whisper wild wind woman words
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Страница 131 - More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
Страница 192 - For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see — Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be ; Saw the heavens...
Страница 130 - If thou shouldst never see my face again, Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
Страница 341 - ... white ; Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk ; Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font : The fire-fly wakens : waken thou with me. Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost, And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars, And all thy heart lies open unto me. Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me. Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, And slips into the bosom of the lake : So fold thyself, my dearest,...
Страница 184 - Death closes all: but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
Страница 255 - And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill ; But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still ! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea ! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.
Страница 294 - On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
Страница 7 - Upon the middle of the night, Waking she heard the night-fowl crow: The cock sung out an hour ere light: From the dark fen the oxen's low Came to her: without hope of change, In sleep she seemed to walk forlorn, Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed morn About the lonely moated grange. She only said, "The day is dreary, He cometh not," she said; She said, "I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!
Страница 127 - King Arthur's sword, Excalibur, Wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake. Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps Upon the hidden bases of the hills.
Страница 93 - All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past. Let us alone. What pleasure can we have To war with evil? Is there any peace In ever climbing up the climbing wave? 5° All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave In silence — ripen, fall, and cease: Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease.