The Traveler's Book of VerseFrederick Earle Emmons, Thomas Waterman Huntington H. Holt, 1928 - Всего страниц: 406 |
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Стр. 15
... men they died . " Here are sands , ignoble things , Dropt from the ruin'd sides of kings . Here's a world of pomp and state , Buried in dust , once dead by fate . FRANCIS BEAUMONT . HOME THOUGHTS FROM ABROAD Oh , to be in England 15.
... men they died . " Here are sands , ignoble things , Dropt from the ruin'd sides of kings . Here's a world of pomp and state , Buried in dust , once dead by fate . FRANCIS BEAUMONT . HOME THOUGHTS FROM ABROAD Oh , to be in England 15.
Стр. 18
... thing went from left to right and knew not which was which , But the wild rose was above him when they found him in the ... things to be seen , Before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green . G. K. CHESTERTON . ENGLAND How often to the ...
... thing went from left to right and knew not which was which , But the wild rose was above him when they found him in the ... things to be seen , Before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green . G. K. CHESTERTON . ENGLAND How often to the ...
Стр. 20
... things , but what else ? And yet we , travelers from a distant land , come to his tomb because he left us the " Elegy Writ- ten in a Country Churchyard . " At his own request , he was buried near the Church at Stoke Poges . It is ...
... things , but what else ? And yet we , travelers from a distant land , come to his tomb because he left us the " Elegy Writ- ten in a Country Churchyard . " At his own request , he was buried near the Church at Stoke Poges . It is ...
Стр. 33
... things are sold , And bonnily clicks the gold there , but drowsily blinks the eye , And London Town of all towns I'm glad to hurry by . Then , hey for covert and woodland , and ash and elm and oak , Tewkesbury inns , and Malvern roofs ...
... things are sold , And bonnily clicks the gold there , but drowsily blinks the eye , And London Town of all towns I'm glad to hurry by . Then , hey for covert and woodland , and ash and elm and oak , Tewkesbury inns , and Malvern roofs ...
Стр. 58
... things not seen . ' No one loved Melrose more than Sir Walter Scott , and its beauty is nowhere more faithfully described than in his " Lay of the Last Minstrel . " THE CLOISTERS Now , slow and faint , he led the way , Where ...
... things not seen . ' No one loved Melrose more than Sir Walter Scott , and its beauty is nowhere more faithfully described than in his " Lay of the Last Minstrel . " THE CLOISTERS Now , slow and faint , he led the way , Where ...
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amid Andrea del Sarto Apennine Arno Arqua Avon beauty bells beneath bird blue breast breath bright Burns castle Childe Harold's Pilgrimage church cloud cold dark death deep distant dream dust earth Eton College eyes fair famous Flanders fields Florence flowers gaze glory gold gondola gray hath heart heaven HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW Highlands hills Italy King Lake land light lived lonely look LORD BYRON marble memory mighty morn mountains night o'er once painted palaces pale Petrarch poem poet Prisoner of Chillon Rhine river rock Roman Rome ruin shadow Shelley shine shore silent sing Sirmio sleep smile song soul Spain spires spirit stands stars stone street sweet thee thine thou throne tomb tower town traveler trees Trossachs twas Venice voice walls WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR wandering waters waves wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings
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Стр. 359 - He has outsoared the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny and hate and pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again...
Стр. 27 - Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen Full many a sprightly race Disporting on thy margent green The paths of pleasure trace; Who foremost now delight to cleave, With pliant arm, thy glassy wave?
Стр. 359 - Peace, peace ! he is not dead, he doth not sleep — He hath awakened from the dream of life — 'Tis we, who, lost in stormy visions, keep With phantoms an unprofitable strife, And in mad trance strike with our spirit's knife Invulnerable nothings.
Стр. 66 - Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking ; Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall, Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, Dream of fighting fields no more : Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
Стр. 73 - Cameron's gathering' rose! The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes; How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers With the fierce native daring which instils The stirring memory of a thousand years, And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears!
Стр. 36 - When Britain first, at Heaven's command, Arose from out the azure main ; This was the charter of the land, And guardian angels sung this strain : " Rule, Britannia, rule the waves; Britons never will be slaves!
Стр. 41 - I wandered lonely as a cloud" I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
Стр. 143 - Jura, whose capt heights appear Precipitously steep ; and drawing near, There breathes a living fragrance from the shore, Of flowers yet fresh with childhood; on the ear Drops the light drip of the suspended oar, Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more; LXXXVII.
Стр. 147 - And in each pillar there is a ring, And in each ring there is a chain; That iron is a cankering thing, For in these limbs its teeth remain, With marks that will not wear away, Till I have done with this new day...
Стр. 25 - THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth, And Melancholy marked him for her own.