The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English LanguageMacmillan and Company, 1867 - Всего страниц: 332 |
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Francis Turner Palgrave. Εἰς τὸν λειμῶνα καθίσας , ἔδρεπεν ἕτερον ἐφ ' ἑτέρῳ αἰρόμενος ἄγρευμ ̓ ἀνθέων ἁδομένα ψυχᾷ - The Golden Treasury Book First I SPRING Spring , the.
Francis Turner Palgrave. Εἰς τὸν λειμῶνα καθίσας , ἔδρεπεν ἕτερον ἐφ ' ἑτέρῳ αἰρόμενος ἄγρευμ ̓ ἀνθέων ἁδομένα ψυχᾷ - The Golden Treasury Book First I SPRING Spring , the.
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Francis Turner Palgrave. The Golden Treasury Book First I SPRING Spring , the sweet Spring , is the year's pleasant king ; Then blooms each thing , then maids dance in a ring , Cold doth not sting , the pretty birds do sing , Cuckoo ...
Francis Turner Palgrave. The Golden Treasury Book First I SPRING Spring , the sweet Spring , is the year's pleasant king ; Then blooms each thing , then maids dance in a ring , Cold doth not sting , the pretty birds do sing , Cuckoo ...
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... spring ! Give life to this dark world which lieth 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 ...
... spring ! Give life to this dark world which lieth 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 ...
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... spring time , the only pretty ring time , When birds do sing hey ding a ding : Sweet lovers love the Spring . Between the acres of the rye These pretty country folks would lie : This carol they began that hour , How that life was but a ...
... spring time , the only pretty ring time , When birds do sing hey ding a ding : Sweet lovers love the Spring . Between the acres of the rye These pretty country folks would lie : This carol they began that hour , How that life was but a ...
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... springs to yellow autumn turn'd In process of the season have I seen , Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd , Since first I saw you fresh which yet are green . Ah ! yet doth beauty , like a dial hand , Steal from his figure ...
... springs to yellow autumn turn'd In process of the season have I seen , Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd , Since first I saw you fresh which yet are green . Ah ! yet doth beauty , like a dial hand , Steal from his figure ...
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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
Arethuse beauty beneath birds blest bonnie bower breast breath bright Brignall brow cheek Cies Islands clouds County Guy Damoetas dark dead dear death delight dost doth dream earth Elizabeth of Bohemia eyes fair Fancy fear flowers frae gentle glory golden green happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hills kiss ladies leaves light live look'd Lord Lord Byron love's lover Lycidas lyre maid Marazion Milton mind morn mountains Muse Nature ne'er never night Nymph o'er P. B. Shelley pale passion Peneus Pindar pleasure poems poet Poetry rose round seem'd shade Shakespeare sigh silent sing sleep smiles soft song Sophia of Hanover sorrow soul sound spirit spring star stream sweet tears tell Thammuz thee There's thine thou art thought tree Twas verse voice waly waly waves weep whilst wild winds wings Wordsworth Yarrow youth
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Стр. 295 - O joy ! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That Nature yet remembers What was so fugitive ! The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction : not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest, Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of childhood, whether busy or at rest,
Стр. 239 - The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed ; And on the pedestal these words appear : ' My name is Ozymandias, king of kings : Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair !' Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, The lone and level sands stretch far away. P. B, Shelley
Стр. 17 - boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest,
Стр. 50 - that roll d Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans The vales redoubled to the hills, and they To Heaven. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway The triple tyrant, that from these may grow A hundred-fold, who, having learnt Thy way, Early may fly the
Стр. 207 - ccxv HOHENLINDEN On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night , Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery. By torch and trumpet fast array'd
Стр. 291 - 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. W. Wordsworth
Стр. 295 - new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast: —Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise ; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things.. Fallings from us, vanishings, Blank misgivings of a creature Moving about in worlds not realized, High instincts, before which
Стр. 28 - XLVI A SEA DIRGE Full fathom five thy father lies : Of his bones are coral made ; Those are pearls that were his eyes : Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange ; Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : Hark ! now I hear them,— Ding, dong, Bell. W. Shakespeare
Стр. 144 - her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere ; Heaven did a recompense as largely send : He gave to Misery all he had, a tear, He gain'd from Heaven, 'twas all he wish'd, a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties
Стр. 92 - Mirth, Whom lovely Venus at a birth With two sister Graces more To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore : Or whether (as some sager sing) The frolic wind that breathes the spring Zephyr, with Aurora playing, As he met her once a-Maying— There on beds of violets blue And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew Fill'd her with