The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English LanguageSever and Francis, 1869 - Всего страниц: 405 |
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Стр. 2
... dead ; Spread forth thy golden hair In larger locks than thou wast wont before , And emperor - like decore With diadem of pearl thy temples fair : Chase hence the ugly night Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light . - This is ...
... dead ; Spread forth thy golden hair In larger locks than thou wast wont before , And emperor - like decore With diadem of pearl thy temples fair : Chase hence the ugly night Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light . - This is ...
Стр. 11
... Hath motion , and mine eye may be deceived : For fear of which , hear this , thou age unbred , Ere you were born , was beauty's summer dead . W. Shakespeare D XV DIAPHENIA IAPHENIA like the daffadowndilly , White as Book First II =
... Hath motion , and mine eye may be deceived : For fear of which , hear this , thou age unbred , Ere you were born , was beauty's summer dead . W. Shakespeare D XV DIAPHENIA IAPHENIA like the daffadowndilly , White as Book First II =
Стр. 12
... dead , thy breath to life might move me . Diaphenia like to all things blesséd When all thy praises are expressed , Dear joy , how I do love thee ! As the birds do love the spring , Or the bees their careful king : Then in requite ...
... dead , thy breath to life might move me . Diaphenia like to all things blesséd When all thy praises are expressed , Dear joy , how I do love thee ! As the birds do love the spring , Or the bees their careful king : Then in requite ...
Стр. 15
... in the chronicle of wasted time WHE I see descriptions of the fairest wights , And beauty making beautiful old rhyme In praise of ladies dead , and lovely knights ; Then in the blazon of sweet beauty's best Of hand Book First 15.
... in the chronicle of wasted time WHE I see descriptions of the fairest wights , And beauty making beautiful old rhyme In praise of ladies dead , and lovely knights ; Then in the blazon of sweet beauty's best Of hand Book First 15.
Стр. 26
... dead , All thy friends are lapp'd in lead : All thy fellow birds do sing Careless of thy sorrowing : Even so , poor bird , like thee None alive will pity me . R. Barnefield XXXV ARE - CHARMER Sleep , son of the sable 26 The Golden ...
... dead , All thy friends are lapp'd in lead : All thy fellow birds do sing Careless of thy sorrowing : Even so , poor bird , like thee None alive will pity me . R. Barnefield XXXV ARE - CHARMER Sleep , son of the sable 26 The Golden ...
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The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English Language Полный просмотр - 1863 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
adieu Love Arethuse 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 ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA eyes fair Fancy fear flowers frae gentle glory green happy hast hath Hazeldean hear heard heart heaven Heigh hills Kirconnell kiss lady leaves light live look'd Lord Lord Byron love's lover Lycidas lyre maid mind morn mountains Muse ne'er never night nonny Nymph o'er P. B. Shelley pale passion Pindar pleasure poems poet Poetry Rosaline rose round Rule Britannia seem'd shade Shakespeare shore sigh sight sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring star stream sweet tears thee There's thine thou art thought tree voice waly waly waves weep wild winds wings Wordsworth Yarrow youth
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Стр. 213 - 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...
Стр. 289 - Hail to thee, blithe spirit! Bird thou never wert, That from heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. Highe'r still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
Стр. 21 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted...
Стр. 353 - 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!
Стр. 76 - 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.
Стр. 366 - 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.
Стр. 369 - Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a mother's mind And no unworthy aim, The homely nurse doth all she can To make her foster-child, her inmate, Man, Forget the glories he hath known And that imperial palace whence he came. Behold the Child among his new-born blisses, A six years
Стр. 74 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he, returning, chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
Стр. 174 - Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply: And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resign' d, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?
Стр. 351 - 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.