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A Calendar of Verse: With an Introduction (Classic Reprint)
Недоступно для просмотра - 2018
bear beauty birds blessed bliss breath bright bring clouds cold comes dark dead dear death deep delight divine doth dream earth eternal eyes fair fall fancy fear feel flowers fresh give glory gold gone grace green grief happy hath head hear heart heaven hope kind kiss leaves light live looks lord lost mind morn mortal mountains move Nature never night o'er once pain Paradise pass pleasure poet present rest rose round shines sing sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul sound speak spirit spring stars stay streams summer sweet tears tell thee thine things thou Thou art thou hast thoughts trees true truth turned voice wake waves weep wind wings winter youth
Стр. 28 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it ! My part of death, no one so true Did share it.
Стр. 30 - There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distil it out. For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers, Which is both healthful and good husbandry: Besides, they are our outward consciences, And preachers to us all, admonishing That we should dress us fairly for our end.
Стр. 18 - When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glist'ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers ; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening mild...
Стр. 4 - Proud Maisie is in the wood, Walking so early; Sweet Robin sits on the bush, Singing so rarely. '"Tell me, thou bonny bird. When shall I marry me?' 'When six braw gentlemen Kirkward shall carry ye.' '"Who makes the bridal bed, Birdie, say truly?' — 'The grey-headed sexton, That delves the grave duly. "The glow-worm o'er grave and stone Shall light thee steady; The owl from the steeple sing, 'Welcome, proud lady.
Стр. 17 - 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. 30 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music, too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue...
Стр. 23 - All this long eve, so balmy and serene, Have I been gazing on the western sky, And its peculiar tint of yellow green : And still I gaze — and with how blank an eye ! And those thin clouds above, in flakes and bars, That give away their motion to the stars...
Стр. 12 - Star-inwrought! Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day; Kiss her until she be wearied out, Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land, Touching all with thine opiate wand— Come, long-sought!