A poetry-book of modern poets, selected and arranged by A. B. EdwardsAmelia Ann Blanford Edwards 1879 |
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Стр. vi
... lines of association will perhaps convey an added sense of harmony ; while for those who prefer dipping into the book wherever it may chance to open , each poem will have its individual and unassisted charm . " Here and there , to ...
... lines of association will perhaps convey an added sense of harmony ; while for those who prefer dipping into the book wherever it may chance to open , each poem will have its individual and unassisted charm . " Here and there , to ...
Стр. x
... Lines to an Indian Air Hopeless and Alone Protestation A Farewell • The Minstrel - Boy Bannockburn Liberty or Death The Battle of Ivry Hohenlinden Gathering Song of Donald the Black Coronach • The Burial of Sir John Moore England's Dead ...
... Lines to an Indian Air Hopeless and Alone Protestation A Farewell • The Minstrel - Boy Bannockburn Liberty or Death The Battle of Ivry Hohenlinden Gathering Song of Donald the Black Coronach • The Burial of Sir John Moore England's Dead ...
Стр. 31
... line Such as the Doric mothers bore ; And there , perhaps , some seed is sown , The Heracleidan blood might own . Trust not for freedom to the Franks- They have a king who buys and sells : In native swords , and native ranks , The only ...
... line Such as the Doric mothers bore ; And there , perhaps , some seed is sown , The Heracleidan blood might own . Trust not for freedom to the Franks- They have a king who buys and sells : In native swords , and native ranks , The only ...
Стр. 51
... Dear , commingled with thy soul ? Red grows the cheek , and warm the hand , .. the part is in the whole ! Nor hands nor cheeks keep separate , when soul is joined to soul . E. B. Browning . 52 LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR . LINES TO AN ...
... Dear , commingled with thy soul ? Red grows the cheek , and warm the hand , .. the part is in the whole ! Nor hands nor cheeks keep separate , when soul is joined to soul . E. B. Browning . 52 LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR . LINES TO AN ...
Стр. 52
Amelia Ann Blanford Edwards. 52 LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR . LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR . I ARISE from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night , When the winds are breathing low , And the stars are shining bright . I arise from dreams ...
Amelia Ann Blanford Edwards. 52 LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR . LINES TO AN INDIAN AIR . I ARISE from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night , When the winds are breathing low , And the stars are shining bright . I arise from dreams ...
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A Poetry-Book of Modern Poets, Selected and Arranged by A. B. Edwards Amelia Ann Blanford Edwards Недоступно для просмотра - 2016 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
A. C. Swinburne Airly Beacon AUTUMN BARBARA FRITCHIE BATTLE OF IVRY BELFRY OF BRUGES bells beneath bird boat boys come home breast breath bright Charlemagne CLEON clouds coronach Cusha D. G. Rossetti dark dear death deep doth dream earth England's dead eyes Faintlier fair flowers foam gleam glory golden green hair hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven ITYLUS kisses leaves light LINCOLNSHIRE Lochinvar look Lord Lord Lytton loud March month Minstrels and maids Modern Poets moon nest never night o'er once OZYMANDIAS P. B. Shelley Persephone poem rain river rose round S. T. Coleridge Samian wine sand shade sigh silent sing sleep slumber snow song sorrow soul sound stars STORM summer sweet tears thee thine thou art thought tree uppe Verse voice waters waves weary weep wild wind wings Wordsworth
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Стр. 75 - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
Стр. 133 - Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Стр. 109 - As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief: A timely utterance gave that thought relief, And I again am strong: The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep; No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay...
Стр. 130 - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards : Already with thee ! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Clustered around by all her starry fays ; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms, and winding mossy ways.
Стр. 219 - Hear the sledges with the bells — Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
Стр. 62 - They say it was a shocking sight after the field was won; for many thousand bodies here lay rotting in the sun; but things like that, you know, must be after a famous victory. Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won, and our good Prince Eugene. "Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!" said little Wilhelmine. "Nay... nay... my little girl," quoth he, "it was a famous victory. And everybody praised the Duke who this great fight did win." "But what good came of it at last?" quoth little Peterkin. "Why that I...
Стр. 114 - 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, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast...
Стр. 130 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet...
Стр. 36 - The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up, He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup. She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,— "Now tread we a measure!
Стр. 129 - MY HEART aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk...