Festival of Song: A Series of Evenings with the PoetsBunce and Huntington, 1866 - Всего страниц: 376 |
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Стр. vii
... sweet expectancies and kindly thoughts . The feast itself , select and choice , and enriched with multitudinous dainties to tempt the taste and please the fancy , now but awaits the generous gusto of the guests . There is , for- sooth ...
... sweet expectancies and kindly thoughts . The feast itself , select and choice , and enriched with multitudinous dainties to tempt the taste and please the fancy , now but awaits the generous gusto of the guests . There is , for- sooth ...
Стр. viii
... sweet melodies of bards of later days . Nay , of your clemency , look not askance at the mention of ancient minstrels and sages , nor urge that their mouldy tomes are rife with quaint conceits and rugged rhymes . Go to ; certes , they ...
... sweet melodies of bards of later days . Nay , of your clemency , look not askance at the mention of ancient minstrels and sages , nor urge that their mouldy tomes are rife with quaint conceits and rugged rhymes . Go to ; certes , they ...
Стр. 7
... sweet breath Preluded those melodious bursts , that fill The spacious times of great Elizabeth With sounds that echo still . Campbell , with all a poet's appreciation , has thus beautifully ex- pressed our obligations to the great ...
... sweet breath Preluded those melodious bursts , that fill The spacious times of great Elizabeth With sounds that echo still . Campbell , with all a poet's appreciation , has thus beautifully ex- pressed our obligations to the great ...
Стр. 26
A Series of Evenings with the Poets Frederick Saunders. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! Here will we sit , and let the sounds of music Creep into our ears : soft stillness , and the night , Become the touches of sweet ...
A Series of Evenings with the Poets Frederick Saunders. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! Here will we sit , and let the sounds of music Creep into our ears : soft stillness , and the night , Become the touches of sweet ...
Стр. 28
... Evenings with the Poets Frederick Saunders. From The Tempest : - Come unto these yellow sands , And then take hands ; Court'sied when you have , and kissed , ( The wild waves whist ! ) Foot it featly here and there ; And , sweet. 28.
... Evenings with the Poets Frederick Saunders. From The Tempest : - Come unto these yellow sands , And then take hands ; Court'sied when you have , and kissed , ( The wild waves whist ! ) Foot it featly here and there ; And , sweet. 28.
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A Festival of Song: A Series of Evenings with the Greatest Poets of the ... Frederick Saunders Ограниченный просмотр - 2024 |
A Festival of Song: A Series of Evenings with the Greatest Poets of the ... Frederick Saunders Ограниченный просмотр - 2024 |
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angels Annabel Lee Babie Bell bard beautiful bells beneath bird bless blest bloom bower breast breath bright brow Charles Lamb charm child clouds dark dead dear death deep delight Dismal Swamp doth dream earth ELIZA COOK eyes Faerie Queene fair fear flowers gentle glory glow golden grace grave green happy hath hear heart heaven hour kiss leaves light lines live lonely look lyre lyric melody merry merry heart Mighty winds mind moon morning muse Nature's never night noble numbers o'er old oaken bucket passage pleasure poem poet poetry rill ROBERT LOWELL rose round shade shine sigh sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit Spring stanzas stars stream summer sweet Tabard tears tell thee thine thought toil trees Twas verse voice wave weary weep wild wind wings youth
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Стр. 69 - Now came still evening on, and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad ; Silence accompanied ; for beast and bird, They to their grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale, She all night long her amorous descant sung...
Стр. 68 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty ! Thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair: Thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable! who sitt'st above these heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Стр. 39 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Стр. 276 - Like a poet hidden, In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not...
Стр. 21 - With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life ; But that the dread of something after death, — The undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, — puzzles the will ; And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of?
Стр. 274 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Стр. 135 - He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all. And, as a bird each fond endearment tries, To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Стр. 31 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments : love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove : O no ; it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests, and is never shaken ; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth 's unknown, although his height be taken.
Стр. 63 - The Oracles are dumb ; No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving : No nightly trance or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
Стр. 220 - Oft in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond memory brings the light Of other days around me: The smiles, the tears Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone, Now dimmed and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken! Thus in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad memory brings the light Of other days around me.