Choice poems and lyrics, for study and delight, ed. by J.T. Ashby1879 |
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Стр. 8
... loud in their wail , And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; And the might of the Gentile , unsmote by the sword , Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord ! George Gordon , Lord Byron : 1788-1824 . Lord Byron's work in ...
... loud in their wail , And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; And the might of the Gentile , unsmote by the sword , Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord ! George Gordon , Lord Byron : 1788-1824 . Lord Byron's work in ...
Стр. 25
... loud times : nor wed His heart to a lie : Nor fear'd to follow , in the offence Of false opinion , his own sense Of justice unsubdued : Nor shrunk from any consequence Of doing good . He looks his Angel in the face 5 Without a blush ...
... loud times : nor wed His heart to a lie : Nor fear'd to follow , in the offence Of false opinion , his own sense Of justice unsubdued : Nor shrunk from any consequence Of doing good . He looks his Angel in the face 5 Without a blush ...
Стр. 37
... loud lament and dismal Miserere1 Will mingle with their awful symphonies ! 2 I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus , The cries of agony , the endless groan , Which , through the ages that have gone before us , In long ...
... loud lament and dismal Miserere1 Will mingle with their awful symphonies ! 2 I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus , The cries of agony , the endless groan , Which , through the ages that have gone before us , In long ...
Стр. 58
... loud and wide thy praises sings , Thou merry month of May ! Reginald Heber : 1783-1826 . Heber made his first mark in poetry as the author of Palestine , perhaps the finest of Oxford prize - poems ( 1803 ) . He was pre- sented to the ...
... loud and wide thy praises sings , Thou merry month of May ! Reginald Heber : 1783-1826 . Heber made his first mark in poetry as the author of Palestine , perhaps the finest of Oxford prize - poems ( 1803 ) . He was pre- sented to the ...
Стр. 62
... loud bleating from the distant hills , And vacant shepherds piping in the dale : And now and then sweet Philomel1 would wail , Or stock - doves plain2 amid the forest deep , That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale ; And still a coil3 ...
... loud bleating from the distant hills , And vacant shepherds piping in the dale : And now and then sweet Philomel1 would wail , Or stock - doves plain2 amid the forest deep , That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale ; And still a coil3 ...
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Choice Poems And Lyrics, For Study And Delight, Ed. By J.t. Ashby Choice Poems Недоступно для просмотра - 2019 |
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American poet Bay of Spezia beautiful beneath Bernard Barton binding shoes birds bless bloom blue born boughs bowers breast breath breeze bright Charles Kingsley cheerful child clouds cool dark dead deep delight dost doth dream earth eyes fair fear feel Felicia Dorothea Hemans flow flowers grass green happy hath hear heard heart heaven Henry Wadsworth Longfellow hill hold in fee Holly Tree HYMN James Russell Lowell John Keble lamb leaves life's light living man's son inherits merry morning mountain murmur Nathaniel Parker Willis never night Nightingale o'er poems poetry river round Samuel Lover scorn shade shine silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit Spring stars stream summer sweet thee There's thine things Thomas Hood thou thought vale verse voice wandering waves wild William Cullen Bryant wind wings woods youth
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Стр. 169 - Slowly and sadly we laid him down From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory!
Стр. 48 - What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower...
Стр. 81 - Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams, Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou For whose path the Atlantic's level powers Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear The sapless foliage of the ocean,...
Стр. 90 - We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Стр. 8 - Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown . For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed...
Стр. 116 - A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Slippers, lined choicely for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold. A belt of straw, and ivy buds, With coral clasps, and amber studs; And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love.
Стр. 75 - QUEEN and Huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess excellently bright. Earth, let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose; Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear when day did close: Bless us then with wished sight, Goddess excellently bright. Lay thy bow of pearl apart And thy crystal-shining quiver; Give unto the flying hart Space, to breathe, how short soever: Thou that mak'st...
Стр. 12 - THE glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against fate; Death lays his icy hand on Kings: Sceptre and Crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Стр. 13 - We have not wings, we cannot soar ; But we have feet to scale and climb By slow degrees, by more and more, The cloudy summits of our time.
Стр. 90 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be: Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee: Thou lovest — but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.