A Household Book of English Poetry, Выпуск 160Macmillan, 1870 - Всего страниц: 438 |
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Стр. 6
... sorrow here we live opprest , What life is best ? Courts are but only superficial schools To dandle fools : The rural parts are turned into a den Of savage men : And where's a city from foul vice so free , But may be termed the worst of ...
... sorrow here we live opprest , What life is best ? Courts are but only superficial schools To dandle fools : The rural parts are turned into a den Of savage men : And where's a city from foul vice so free , But may be termed the worst of ...
Стр. 24
... sorrow's fall . 5 10 Thy gowns , thy shoes , thy bed of roses , Thy cap , thy kirtle , and thy posies , Soon break , soon wither , soon forgotten ; In folly ripe , in reason rotten . 15 Thy belt of straw and ivy - buds , Thy coral ...
... sorrow's fall . 5 10 Thy gowns , thy shoes , thy bed of roses , Thy cap , thy kirtle , and thy posies , Soon break , soon wither , soon forgotten ; In folly ripe , in reason rotten . 15 Thy belt of straw and ivy - buds , Thy coral ...
Стр. 30
... sorrows end . 5 10 William Shakespeare . XXX SONNET . From you have I been absent in the spring , When proud - pied April , dressed in all his trim , Had put a spirit of youth in every thing , That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with ...
... sorrows end . 5 10 William Shakespeare . XXX SONNET . From you have I been absent in the spring , When proud - pied April , dressed in all his trim , Had put a spirit of youth in every thing , That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with ...
Стр. 34
... Sorrow calls no time that's gone : Violets plucked , the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again ; Trim thy locks , look cheerfully ; Fate's hidden ends eyes cannot see Joys as wingèd dreams fly fast , Why should sadness longer ...
... Sorrow calls no time that's gone : Violets plucked , the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again ; Trim thy locks , look cheerfully ; Fate's hidden ends eyes cannot see Joys as wingèd dreams fly fast , Why should sadness longer ...
Стр. 46
... sorrow here , with wonder on his book . John Cleveland . ΙΟ XLVIII A CONTENTED MIND . I weigh not fortune's frown or smile ; I joy not much in earthly joys ; I seek not state , I seek not style ; I am not fond of fancy's toys ; I rest ...
... sorrow here , with wonder on his book . John Cleveland . ΙΟ XLVIII A CONTENTED MIND . I weigh not fortune's frown or smile ; I joy not much in earthly joys ; I seek not state , I seek not style ; I am not fond of fancy's toys ; I rest ...
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appear bear beauty beneath bird breath bright clear clouds crown dark dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth English eyes face fair fall fear flow flowers give glory golden gone grace grave green grow hand happy hast hath head hear heart heaven hope hour John King land leaves less light lines live look Lord mind morn mother nature never night o'er once pain pass peace pleasure poem poet praise rest rise rose round seemed seen shine sight sing sleep smile song soon sorrow soul sound spirit spring stand stars sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought trees true turn voice walks weep wind woods youth ΙΟ
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Стр. 248 - The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Стр. 282 - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
Стр. 85 - 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...
Стр. 257 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow; But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
Стр. 285 - What thou art we know not ; What is most like thee ? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see, As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. Like a poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not...
Стр. 215 - E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, 'Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn...
Стр. 339 - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast — The desert and illimitable air — Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Стр. 26 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Стр. 51 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against fate; Death lays his icy hand on kings. Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Стр. 293 - O Attic shape ! Fair attitude ! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed ; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity : Cold Pastoral ! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shall remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, ! " Beauty is truth, truth beauty," — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.