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Alfred Tennyson Anne Hathaway art thou beauty bells beneath bird blessed bosom breast breath bright brow cheek clouds cold dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth Elizabeth Barrett Browning eyes face fair fear flowers frae gentle gone grave green hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hill hour king kiss lady land leaves light lips live look Lord moon morning mother ne'er never nevermore night o'er Percy Bysshe Shelley POEMS praise rest ROBERT BURNS rose round shine shore sigh silent sing Sir Walter Scott sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars stood sweet tears tell thee thine Thomas Hood Thomas Moore thou art thought TOEMS tree voice wave weary weep wild William Cullen Bryant William Wordsworth wind wings
Стр. 231 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth ; my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Стр. 190 - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
Стр. 206 - But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we, Of many far wiser than we; And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
Стр. 461 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll ! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore; — upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy...
Стр. 616 - And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills and Groves, Forebode not any severing of our loves ! Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; I only have relinquished one delight To live beneath your more habitual sway. I love the Brooks which down their channels fret, Even more than when I tripped lightly as they; The innocent brightness of a new-born Day Is lovely yet ; The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; Another...
Стр. 326 - Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams, Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them!
Стр. 393 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet But hark!
Стр. 33 - Each spake words of high disdain And insult to his heart's best brother: They parted — ne'er to meet again ! But never either found another To free the hollow heart from paining — They stood aloof, the scars remaining, Like cliffs which had been rent asunder ; A dreary sea now flows between, But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, Shall wholly do away, I ween, The marks of that which once hath been.
Стр. 607 - Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a Soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard ; Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the Justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances, — And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered Pantaloon, With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; His youthful hose,...
Стр. 641 - But tell me, tell me! speak again, Thy soft response renewing— What makes that ship drive on so fast? What is the ocean doing?' Second Voice 'Still as a slave before his lord, The ocean hath no blast; His great bright eye most silently Up to the Moon is cast— If he may know which way to go; For she guides him smooth or grim. See, brother, see! how graciously She looketh down on him.