Choice English LyricsSilver, Burdett, 1894 - Всего страниц: 368 |
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Стр. 10
... Flowers . 4. The Retreat 5. The Piper · 6. The Romance of the Swan's Nest 7. A Boy's Song Simon Wastell . 243 Francis Beaumont 244 George Herbert . 245 Henry Vaughan · 246 247 William Blake Elizabeth Barrett Browning 248 James Hogg . 10 ...
... Flowers . 4. The Retreat 5. The Piper · 6. The Romance of the Swan's Nest 7. A Boy's Song Simon Wastell . 243 Francis Beaumont 244 George Herbert . 245 Henry Vaughan · 246 247 William Blake Elizabeth Barrett Browning 248 James Hogg . 10 ...
Стр. 11
... Flower . 6. The Pulley · 7. Translation of the 23d Psalm Henry Vaughan 298 • • Anon . 299 George Herbert . 301 66 66 302 66 66 303 66 66 Joseph Addison . 304 306 307 308 311 312 Jeremy Taylor 313 Robert Herrick . 313 8. The Dying ...
... Flower . 6. The Pulley · 7. Translation of the 23d Psalm Henry Vaughan 298 • • Anon . 299 George Herbert . 301 66 66 302 66 66 303 66 66 Joseph Addison . 304 306 307 308 311 312 Jeremy Taylor 313 Robert Herrick . 313 8. The Dying ...
Стр. 13
... flowers , nor whatever else may make the too - much - loved earth more lovely ; her world is brazen , the poets only deliver a golden . SIR PHILIP SIDNEY . I. A MORNING SONG . HARK , hark ! the lark at heaven's gate sings , And Phoebus ...
... flowers , nor whatever else may make the too - much - loved earth more lovely ; her world is brazen , the poets only deliver a golden . SIR PHILIP SIDNEY . I. A MORNING SONG . HARK , hark ! the lark at heaven's gate sings , And Phoebus ...
Стр. 18
... flower has wept , and bowed toward the east , Above an hour since ; yet you not drest , Nay ! not so much as out of bed ? When all the birds have matins said , And sung their thankful hymns : ' tis sin , Nay , profanation , to keep in ...
... flower has wept , and bowed toward the east , Above an hour since ; yet you not drest , Nay ! not so much as out of bed ? When all the birds have matins said , And sung their thankful hymns : ' tis sin , Nay , profanation , to keep in ...
Стр. 22
... flowers , Through Phoebus ' fostering heat , Refreshed with dew and silver showers , Cast up an odour sweet . The clogged busy humming bees , That never think to drone , On flowers and flourishes of trees , Collect their liquor brown ...
... flowers , Through Phoebus ' fostering heat , Refreshed with dew and silver showers , Cast up an odour sweet . The clogged busy humming bees , That never think to drone , On flowers and flourishes of trees , Collect their liquor brown ...
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Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
abbot auld Avès ballad Barbara Allen battle BATTLE OF BANNOCKBURN BATTLE OF NASEBY beauty birds blood blow bonnie breast bright Charlemagne cheek crown dead dear death deep doth dreams earth English eyes fair father flowers gallant glory grace grave green hair hand hath head hear heart heaven hill hour John King kiss Lady Clare land light live Lochinvar look Lord lovers maidens merry Minstrels and maids moon mother ne'er never night numbers o'er PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY pibroch poem Procne Richard Barnfield ride ROBERT HERRICK Robin Hood rode rose Samian wine shepherds sigh sing sister sleep smile snow song sorrow soul Spirit spring star steed summer sweet tear tell Tereus thee thine thou art thou hast Toll slowly tree TWA BROTHERS TWA SISTERS unto waves wild WILLIAM WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings
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Стр. 48 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Стр. 54 - Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness ! Close bosom-friend of the maturing Sun ! Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run ; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core...
Стр. 200 - TO HELEN Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
Стр. 94 - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak, She quells the floods below — As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Стр. 186 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.
Стр. 73 - HALF a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. " Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns," he said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
Стр. 49 - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast — The desert and illimitable air — Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Стр. 158 - So stately his form, and so lovely her face. That never a hall such a galliard did grace: While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bride-maidens whispered, "Twere better by far To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.
Стр. 186 - GATHER ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying : And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying.
Стр. 102 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden, saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.