College Rhymes, Том 9

Передняя обложка
T. & G. Shrimpton, 1868

Результаты поиска по книге

Отзывы - Написать отзыв

Не удалось найти ни одного отзыва.

Избранные страницы

Другие издания - Просмотреть все

Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения

Популярные отрывки

Стр. 180 - In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy Tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity: The north cannot undo them With a sleety whistle through them, Nor frozen thawings glue them From budding at the prime. In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy Brook, Thy bubblings ne'er remember Apollo's summer look; But with a sweet forgetting They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting About the frozen time.
Стр. 172 - Other Romans shall arise, Heedless of a soldier's name, Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize, Harmony the path to fame.
Стр. 174 - Then the progeny that springs From the forests of our land, Armed with thunder, clad with wings, Shall a wider world command. " Regions Caesar never knew Thy posterity shall sway, Where his eagles never flew, None invincible as they." Such the bard's prophetic words, Pregnant with celestial fire, Bending as he swept the chords Of his sweet but awful lyre. She, with all a monarch's pride, Felt them in her bosom glow, Rushed to battle, fought and died, Dying, hurled them at the foe. " Ruffians, pitiless...
Стр. 126 - Before my breath, like, blazing flax, Man and his marvels pass away; And changing empires wane and wax, Are founded, flourish and decay. "Redeem mine hours — the space is brief — While in my glass the sand-grains shiver, And measureless thy joy or grief, When Time and thou shalt part for ever!
Стр. 170 - WHEN the British warrior queen, Bleeding from the Roman rods, Sought, with' an indignant mien, Counsel of her country's gods, Sage beneath the spreading oak Sat the Druid, hoary chief; Every burning word he spoke Full of rage and full of grief.
Стр. 124 - the Deep Voice cried, " So long enjoyed, so oft misused — Alternate, in thy fickle pride, Desired, neglected, and accused? " Before my breath, like blazing flax, Man and his marvels pass away ; And changing empires wane and wax, Are founded, flourish, and decay. " Redeem mine hours — the space is brief — While in my glass the sand-grains shiver, And measureless thy joy or grief, When TIME and thou shall part for ever...
Стр. 182 - Nor frozen thawings glue them From budding at the prime. In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy brook, Thy bubblings ne'er remember Apollo's summer look ; But with a sweet forgetting They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting About the frozen time. Ah ! would 'twere so with many A gentle girl and boy ! But were there ever any Writhed not at passed joy? To know the change and feel it, When there is none to heal it Nor numbed sense to steal it — Was never said in rhyme.
Стр. 161 - God ! it is hard to bear! It was only yesterday evening that they passed us in the street, But he turned his face to the darkness, not to see who lay at his feet, Nor saw the sweet look of compassion that crossed his wife's fair face — Little, I trow, she fancied she held my rightful place. Listen ! the bells are telling the Year is dying slow : It was just like this that I heard them only a year ago ! They sound like the bells of our village, rolling up from below the...
Стр. 159 - And through the leaves beside us we heard the river flow. And fondly he talked of our marriage, and anon of a happy morn, All in the flowery summer, when, darling, you were born ; Until soon the candle flickered, and the falling ashes grew dim — Then we slept, and all through the quiet I lay and dreamt of him. Gladly I woke on the morrow, the first day of the year; Gladly I heard from the village the chimes go loud and clear ; Gladly I woke, and leant over to kiss your sunny hair, And I turned...
Стр. 158 - He talked of the past and present, and all looked cheerful and bright. He talked of a soft Spring morning, when first he saw my face : — He was an unknown painter, and had come to stay in the place ; And he used to take his painting out in the sunny land — It was there that first I met him, it was there that he asked my hand. And oft at eve in the sunlight by the fern-clad stile we stood, That leads from the field of clover into the hazel wood ; While the thousand voices of labour came up from...

Библиографические данные