The Standard poetry book, selected from the best authors1866 - Всего страниц: 274 |
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Стр. 2
... hear ; Her manners had not that repose you . Which stamps the caste of Vere de Vere . Lady Clara Vere de Vere , your hall : There stands a spectre in The guilt of blood is at your door : You changed a wholesome heart to gall . You held ...
... hear ; Her manners had not that repose you . Which stamps the caste of Vere de Vere . Lady Clara Vere de Vere , your hall : There stands a spectre in The guilt of blood is at your door : You changed a wholesome heart to gall . You held ...
Стр. 8
... hear ; Hast thou a star to guide thy path , Or mark the rolling year ? Delightful visitant ! with thee I hail the time of flowers , When Heaven is fill'd with music sweet , Of birds among the bowers . The schoolboy , wandering in the ...
... hear ; Hast thou a star to guide thy path , Or mark the rolling year ? Delightful visitant ! with thee I hail the time of flowers , When Heaven is fill'd with music sweet , Of birds among the bowers . The schoolboy , wandering in the ...
Стр. 21
... hear , Prophet of the ripen'd year ! To thee , of all things upon earth , Life's no longer than thy mirth . Happy insect ! happy thou , Dost neither age nor winter know . But when thou'st drunk , and danced , and sung Thy fill , the ...
... hear , Prophet of the ripen'd year ! To thee , of all things upon earth , Life's no longer than thy mirth . Happy insect ! happy thou , Dost neither age nor winter know . But when thou'st drunk , and danced , and sung Thy fill , the ...
Стр. 34
... Hear me without thine ears , and make reply Without a tongue , using conceit alone , Without eyes , ears , and harmful sound of words ; Then , in despight of broad - eyed watchful day , I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts : But , ah ...
... Hear me without thine ears , and make reply Without a tongue , using conceit alone , Without eyes , ears , and harmful sound of words ; Then , in despight of broad - eyed watchful day , I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts : But , ah ...
Стр. 38
... hear its tune ; Thou'rt standing on thy legs above ground , Mummy ! Revisiting the glimpses of the moon , Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures , But with thy bones , and flesh , and limbs , and features . ADDRESS TO AN EGYPTIAN ...
... hear its tune ; Thou'rt standing on thy legs above ground , Mummy ! Revisiting the glimpses of the moon , Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures , But with thy bones , and flesh , and limbs , and features . ADDRESS TO AN EGYPTIAN ...
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The Standard Poetry Book, Selected from the Best Authors Standard Poetry Book Недоступно для просмотра - 2015 |
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angel battle beauty beneath blood bosom breast breath bright brow Brutus child clouds cold cried dark dead dear death deep doth dreams ears earth eyes face fair fall father fear field fire flowers gentle give grace grave green grief hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hill holy hope hour king land leaves light live looks meet mind morn mother mountain Nature never night o'er once pass pleasure poor pray prayer pride rest rise rock round shade side sight sleep smile snow song sorrow soul sound spirit springs stars stream sweet tears tell thee things thou thought thousand tree turn Twas voice wave wild wind wings woods young youth
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Стр. 199 - O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim...
Стр. 161 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place.
Стр. 117 - Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise? And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the...
Стр. 141 - Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world Like a Colossus, and we petty men Walk under his huge legs and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Стр. 198 - My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk...
Стр. 91 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me ; Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form ; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief.
Стр. 158 - SWEET Day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die. Sweet Rose, whose hue angry and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die.
Стр. 116 - There was a sound of revelry by night. And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry ; and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men : A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again ; And all went merry as a marriage-bell, But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell.
Стр. 63 - But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride: And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail ; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
Стр. 216 - Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower— Before, milk-white; now purple with love's wound— And maidens call it, love-in-idleness.