Short readings from English poetry, chosen and arranged with notes by H.A. HertzHelen A Hertz 1879 |
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Стр. 4
... soil . For this rest in the furrow after toil Their large and lustrous eyes Seem to thank the Lord , More than man's spoken word . Near at hand , From under the sheltering trees , 4 Short Readings from English Poetry .
... soil . For this rest in the furrow after toil Their large and lustrous eyes Seem to thank the Lord , More than man's spoken word . Near at hand , From under the sheltering trees , 4 Short Readings from English Poetry .
Стр. 5
Helen A Hertz. Near at hand , From under the sheltering trees , The farmer sees His pastures and his fields of grain , As they bend their tops To the numberless beating drops Of the incessant rain . He counts it as no sin That he sees ...
Helen A Hertz. Near at hand , From under the sheltering trees , The farmer sees His pastures and his fields of grain , As they bend their tops To the numberless beating drops Of the incessant rain . He counts it as no sin That he sees ...
Стр. 11
... Hands , that the rod of empire might have swayed , Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre : But knowledge to their eyes her ample page , Rich with the spoils of time , did ne'er unroll ; Chill penury repressed their noble rage , And froze ...
... Hands , that the rod of empire might have swayed , Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre : But knowledge to their eyes her ample page , Rich with the spoils of time , did ne'er unroll ; Chill penury repressed their noble rage , And froze ...
Стр. 15
... hand unbarred the shutter , The clammy lips of fever smiled The welcome which they could not utter . He always had a tale for me Of Julius Cæsar or of Venus : From him I learned the rule of three , Cat's cradle , leap - frog , and quæ ...
... hand unbarred the shutter , The clammy lips of fever smiled The welcome which they could not utter . He always had a tale for me Of Julius Cæsar or of Venus : From him I learned the rule of three , Cat's cradle , leap - frog , and quæ ...
Стр. 16
... hand is white , whose tone is clear , Whose phrase is very Ciceronian . Where is the old man laid ? -- look down And construe on the slab before you , Hic jacet Gulielmus Brown , Vir nullâ non donandus lauru . W. M. PRAED . 14 . The ...
... hand is white , whose tone is clear , Whose phrase is very Ciceronian . Where is the old man laid ? -- look down And construe on the slab before you , Hic jacet Gulielmus Brown , Vir nullâ non donandus lauru . W. M. PRAED . 14 . The ...
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Short Readings from English Poetry, Chosen and Arranged with Notes by H.A. Hertz Helen A. Hertz Недоступно для просмотра - 2016 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
Abbot beauty beneath birds breast breath bright Brutus Cæsar canst clouds cold cried customed hill dance dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth eyes fair fear feel flowers friends galloped gentle GEORGE ELIOT Gilpin give glory grave green guilders hallowed ground happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven honour horse Hubert Islington John Gilpin Julius Cæsar king kiss leaves light live look Lord LORD BYRON moon morning mountains never night o'er P. B. SHELLEY pain path of glory Pibroch pleasure poet praise Proteus rain ringdove river round SHAKESPEARE sigh silent sing Sir John Moore sleep smile soft song soul spirit stars steed stept stood stream sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thou dost thought trees Twas unto voice weep wild wind wings wonder WORDSWORTH youth
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Стр. 75 - That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire, That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed, whereon it must expire, Consumed with that...
Стр. 182 - Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is; What if my leaves are falling like its own! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth! And, by the incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! Be through my lips to unawakened earth The...
Стр. 215 - 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. 155 - And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, say I taught thee Say Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it.
Стр. 174 - O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty," — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Стр. 142 - 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. 69 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning.
Стр. 144 - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil, that men do, lives after them ; The good is oft interred with their bones ; So let it be with Caesar.
Стр. 206 - HAIL to thee, blithe spirit ! Bird thou never wert, That from heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
Стр. 139 - Of hair-breadth scapes i' the imminent deadly breach; Of being taken by the insolent foe, And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence, And portance in my travels' history: Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle, Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven, It was my hint to speak, — such was the process; And of the Cannibals that each other eat, The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders.