A Victorian Anthology, 1837-1895: Selections Illustrating the Editor's Critical Review of British Poetry in the Reign of Victoria, Том 1Edmund Clarence Stedman Riverside Press, 1895 |
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Стр. 7
... hours assign'd them , change their place , And , when comes ampler splendor , disap- pear ? Idler I am , and pardon , not reply , Implore from thee , thus question'd ; well I know Thou strikest , like Olympian Jove , but once . LITTLE ...
... hours assign'd them , change their place , And , when comes ampler splendor , disap- pear ? Idler I am , and pardon , not reply , Implore from thee , thus question'd ; well I know Thou strikest , like Olympian Jove , but once . LITTLE ...
Стр. 9
... Hours grew colder : Then somewhat seem'd to whisper near That thou and I must part ; I doubted it ; I felt no fear , No weight upon the heart . If aught befell it , Love was by And roll'd WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR 9 Walter Savage Landor.
... Hours grew colder : Then somewhat seem'd to whisper near That thou and I must part ; I doubted it ; I felt no fear , No weight upon the heart . If aught befell it , Love was by And roll'd WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR 9 Walter Savage Landor.
Стр. 11
... hour Was come , and bees had wounded them , and flies Of harder wing were working their way through And scattering them in fragments under foot . So crisp were some , they rattled unevolv'd , Others , ere broken off , fell into shells ...
... hour Was come , and bees had wounded them , and flies Of harder wing were working their way through And scattering them in fragments under foot . So crisp were some , they rattled unevolv'd , Others , ere broken off , fell into shells ...
Стр. 13
... hour is come ; Take we our seats and let the dirge begin . TO IANTHE You smil'd , you spoke , and I believ'd , By ... hours you can , you must , Nor rise at Death's approaching stride , Nor go when dust is gone to dust . THE TEST I HELD ...
... hour is come ; Take we our seats and let the dirge begin . TO IANTHE You smil'd , you spoke , and I believ'd , By ... hours you can , you must , Nor rise at Death's approaching stride , Nor go when dust is gone to dust . THE TEST I HELD ...
Стр. 15
... hour forgot When one pert lady said , " O Walter ! I am quite Bewilder'd with affright ! I see ( sit quiet now ) a white hair on your head ! " Another more benign Snipp'd it away from mine , And in her own dark hair Pretended it was ...
... hour forgot When one pert lady said , " O Walter ! I am quite Bewilder'd with affright ! I see ( sit quiet now ) a white hair on your head ! " Another more benign Snipp'd it away from mine , And in her own dark hair Pretended it was ...
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A Victorian Anthology, 1837-1895: Selections Illustrating the Editor ..., Том 1 Edmund Clarence Stedman Недоступно для просмотра - 2018 |
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angels ANNE BRONTË art thou ARTEMIDORA Barum beauty beneath bird blow Bouillabaisse breast breath bright brow cheek cloud cold dark Dark Rosaleen dead dear death deep doth dream earth Echion Elissa evermore eyes face fair fall fear feet flowers Glenkindie glory gold golden gone grave green hair hand hath hear heard heart heaven hour Judas Iscariot king kiss land leaves light lips lonely look look'd Lord lov'd moon morn mother ne'er neath never night o'er Palie pass'd Provence Rapparees rest river Lee rose round seem'd shadow shine shore sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound stars stood summer sweet tears thee Theocritus thine things thou art thought thro tree turn'd vex'd voice Vrom Wat Scott waves weary weep wild wind wings
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Стр. 224 - DOVER BEACH THE sea is calm to-night. The tide is full, the moon lies fair Upon the straits ; — on the French coast the light Gleams and is gone ; the cliffs of England stand, Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Стр. 195 - The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks: The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Стр. 120 - Death has left on her Only the beautiful. Still, for all slips of hers. One of Eve's family — Wipe those poor lips of hers. Oozing so clammily. Loop up her tresses Escaped from the comb, — Her fair auburn tresses; Whilst wonderment guesses. Where was her home ? Who was her father? Who was her mother ? Had she a sister ? Had she a brother ? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet, than all other?
Стр. 194 - Myself not least, but honour'd of them all ; And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. I am a part of all that I have met ; Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move.
Стр. 224 - Ah, love, let us be true To one another! for the world, which seems To lie before us like a land of dreams, So various, so beautiful, so new, Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain; And we are here as on a darkling plain Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, Where ignorant armies clash by night.
Стр. 340 - Chequer-board of Nights and Days; Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.
Стр. 193 - To dream and dream, like yonder amber light, Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height; To hear each other's whisper'd speech; Eating the Lotos day by day, To watch the crisping ripples on the beach, And tender curving lines of creamy spray; To lend our hearts and spirits wholly To the influence of mild-minded melancholy...
Стр. 197 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story : The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Стр. 57 - LEAD, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home! Lead Thou me on. Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see The distant scene — one step enough for me. I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou Shouldst lead me on. I loved to choose and see my path, but now Lead Thou me on!
Стр. 114 - WE watched her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. So silently we seemed to speak, So slowly moved about, As we had lent her half our powers To eke her living out. Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied—- We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died. For when the morn came, dim and sad, And chill with early showers, Her quiet eyelids closed — she had Another morn than ours.