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A Year Book of Famous Lyrics: Selections From the British and American Poets ...
Frederic Lawrence Knowles
Недоступно для просмотра - 2017
A Yearbook of Famous Lyrics: Selections from the British and American Poets ...
Frederic Lawrence Knowles
Недоступно для просмотра - 1901
beauty birds Born break breast breath bright bring child close cold comes dark dead dear death deep Died doth dream earth Elizabeth Barrett Browning eyes face fair fall fear feel flow flowers give gone green grow hair hame hand hath head hear heart heaven hope hour John keep king kiss land leaves light lips live look Lord love thee meet mind moon morning Nature never night o'er once rest rise Robert rose round seen shine sigh sight silent sing sleep smile soft song soon soul sound spirit spring stars sweet tears tell thee thine thing Thomas thou thou art thought tree true turn voice Walter waves weep wild wind wings wish
Стр. 304 - Where the bee sucks, there suck I ; In a cowslip's bell I lie : There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly, After summer, merrily : Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Стр. 332 - Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly Then, heigh, ho, the holly ! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! &c.
Стр. 50 - I MET a traveller from an antique land Who said : Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed. And on the pedestal these words appear: " My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair !
Стр. 266 - To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core ; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
Стр. 344 - O, mistress mine, where are you roaming? O stay and hear ; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low : Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers' meeting, Every wise man's son doth know.
Стр. 261 - For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main. And not by eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light; In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, But westward, look, the land is bright.
Стр. xxi - She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies, And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes ; Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
Стр. 61 - Oh, to be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brush-wood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough In England — now! And after April, when May follows, And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows ! Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops — at the bent spray's edge — That's...
Стр. 116 - MAY MORNING. Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Стр. 22 - 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 honor more.