The Standard Poetry Book, Selected from the Best Authors1866 - Всего страниц: 274 |
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Стр. viii
... Heaven Personal Talk ............... . The Three Sons The Mother ....... Shakspeare ..... Hood Burns Milton 139 Shakspeare 140 Campbell .... 144 ... 145 146 Wordsworth 147 ......... 149 Wordsworth 150 Moultrie 151 Campbell 154 CONTENTS ...
... Heaven Personal Talk ............... . The Three Sons The Mother ....... Shakspeare ..... Hood Burns Milton 139 Shakspeare 140 Campbell .... 144 ... 145 146 Wordsworth 147 ......... 149 Wordsworth 150 Moultrie 151 Campbell 154 CONTENTS ...
Стр. 2
... heavens above us bent The grand old gardener and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent . Howe'er it be , it seems to me , ' Tis only noble to be good . Kind hearts are more than coronets , And simple faith than Norman blood . I ...
... heavens above us bent The grand old gardener and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent . Howe'er it be , it seems to me , ' Tis only noble to be good . Kind hearts are more than coronets , And simple faith than Norman blood . I ...
Стр. 3
... Heaven for a human heart , And let the foolish yeoman go . Tennyson . 3 THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE . Nor a drum was heard , nor a funeral note , As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er ...
... Heaven for a human heart , And let the foolish yeoman go . Tennyson . 3 THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE . Nor a drum was heard , nor a funeral note , As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er ...
Стр. 7
... . HAIL , beauteous stranger of the wood , Attendant on the spring ! Now Heaven repairs thy vernal seat , And woods thy welcome sing . 8 WOLSEY'S ADVICE TO CROMWELL . Soon as the daisy The Cuckoo The Spilt Pearls...... Spring.
... . HAIL , beauteous stranger of the wood , Attendant on the spring ! Now Heaven repairs thy vernal seat , And woods thy welcome sing . 8 WOLSEY'S ADVICE TO CROMWELL . Soon as the daisy The Cuckoo The Spilt Pearls...... Spring.
Стр. 8
... Heaven is fill'd with music sweet , Of birds among the bowers . The schoolboy , wandering in the wood To pull the flowers so gay , Starts - thy curious voice to hear , And imitates thy lay . Soon as the pea puts on the bloom , Thou ...
... Heaven is fill'd with music sweet , Of birds among the bowers . The schoolboy , wandering in the wood To pull the flowers so gay , Starts - thy curious voice to hear , And imitates thy lay . Soon as the pea puts on the bloom , Thou ...
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The Standard Poetry Book, Selected from the Best Authors Standard Poetry Book Недоступно для просмотра - 2015 |
The Standard Poetry Book, Selected from the Best Authors Standard Poetry Book Недоступно для просмотра - 2018 |
The Standard Poetry Book, Selected From the Best Authors Standard Poetry Book Недоступно для просмотра - 2023 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
angel art thou BATTLE OF BLENHEIM beauty beneath bless bloom bosom bower breast breath bright brow Brutus Cæsar Cassius cheek child clouds cried dark dead dear death deep dost doth dream earth ETON COLLEGE eyes fair father fear fire flowers gentle glowing grace grave GREECE green grief happy hath hear heard heart heaven helmet of Navarre Henry Kirke White hill holy honour hour king land light live Lochiel look lyre MELROSE ABBEY MERCHANT OF VENICE morn mountain mourn murmuring ne'er never night o'er praise pray prayer pride proud rock round Samian wine shade Shakspeare sigh sight sing sleep smile snow song sorrow soul sound SPANISH ARMADA spirit stars sweet tears tell thee thine thou art thou hast thought thousand Twas vale voice wave weep wild wind wings Wordsworth 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.