Tennyson

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Macmillan, 1902 - Всего страниц: 200

Tennyson by SirAlfred Comyn Lyall, first published in 1902, is a rare manuscript, the original residing in one of the great libraries of the world. This book is a reproduction of that original, which has been scanned and cleaned by state-of-the-art publishing tools for better readability and enhanced appreciation.

Restoration Editors' mission is to bring long out of print manuscripts back to life. Some smudges, annotations or unclear text may still exist, due to permanent damage to the original work. We believe the literary significance of the text justifies offering this reproduction, allowing a new generation to appreciate it.

 

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Стр. 55 - Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Стр. 27 - Eye, to which all order festers, all things here are out of joint, Science moves, but slowly slowly, creeping on from point to point : Slowly comes a hungry people, as a lion, creeping nigher, Glares at one that nods and winks behind a slowly-dying fire. Yet I doubt not thro' the ages one increasing purpose runs, And the thoughts of men are widen'd with the process of the suns.
Стр. 16 - My life is dreary, He cometh not,' she said; She said, 'I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!
Стр. 70 - Flow thro' our deeds and make them pure, That we may lift from out of dust A voice as unto him that hears, A cry above the conquer'd years To one that with us works, and trust, With faith that comes of self-control, The truths that never can be proved Until we close with all we loved, And all we flow from, soul in soul.
Стр. 43 - A still salt pool, lock'd in with bars of sand; Left on the shore; that hears all night The plunging seas draw backward from the land Their moon-led waters white.
Стр. 90 - Then I looked on all the works that my hands had wrought, and on the labour that I had laboured to do : and behold, all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under the sun.
Стр. 48 - Many a night from yonder ivied casement, ere I went to rest, Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly to the West. Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro' the mellow shade, Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid.
Стр. 46 - Or to burst all links of habit — there to wander far away, On from island unto island at the gateways of the day.
Стр. 121 - Humble and rustic life was generally chosen, because in that condition the essential passions of the heart find a better soil in which they can attain their maturity, are less under restraint, and speak a plainer and more emphatic language...
Стр. 72 - No gray old grange, or lonely fold, Or low morass and whispering reed, Or simple stile from mead to mead, Or sheepwalk up the windy wold ; Nor hoary knoll of ash and haw That hears the latest linnet trill, Nor quarry trench'd along the hill And haunted by the wrangling daw ; Nor runlet tinkling from the rock, Nor pastoral rivulet that swerves To left and right thro...

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