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Hoekzema's Gleanings From English Poetry (Classic Reprint)
Недоступно для просмотра - 2018
Annabel Lee Annie beautiful bells beneath bird blow brave breath bright brow captain's gig child cloud cold cried dark dead dear death deep Don Josh's earth ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING Enoch eyes face fair fear fell flowers golden gone grave hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven Highland Highland laddie hill HOEKZEMA How's my boy Inchcape Rock Ivy green Jacintha King King Arthur kiss knew Lady Moon land light live lonely look Lord loud MATTHEW ARNOLD morning NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIs never night o'er Philip Poetry quoth R. L. Stevenson Robin Adair rose round sail seem'd ship shore silent singing Sir Bedivere sleep smile snow song Sonnet soul sound stars stood sweet tears thee thine things thou hast thou not watch thought thro tree Twas voice waves weep White Ship wild wind wings
Стр. 152 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard ! — May none those marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Стр. 6 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. I remember, I remember The house where I was born , The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn: He never came a wink too soon , Nor brought too long a day, But now , I often wish the night Had borne my breath away.
Стр. 138 - Reaper. Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Стр. 167 - 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. 42 - ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold: Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?" The vision raised its head, And, with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord.
Стр. 167 - 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. 169 - Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, Are each paved with the moon and these. I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone, And the moon's with a girdle of pearl; The volcanos are dim, and the stars reel and swim. When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl. From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape, Over a torrent sea, Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof, The mountains its columns be. The triumphal arch through which I march With hurricane, fire, and snow, When the powers of the air are chained...
Стр. 89 - Now strike the golden lyre again: A louder yet, and yet a louder strain ! Break his bands of sleep asunder And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark ! the horrid sound Has raised up his head : As awaked from the dead, And amazed he stares around. Revenge, revenge...
Стр. 184 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear ! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going ! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing ! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.