An Evening in My Library Among the English PoetsJohn Lane, 1916 - Всего страниц: 217 |
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beautiful bird Bliss Carman brave breath Browning burn century charming Christina Rossetti cold Coleridge dark dead dear death deep divine doth Douglas Gordon dream earth England esoteric band eyes fair fame fear flowers Francis Thompson gift gone grey plover hand happy hear heard heart Heaven Helvellyn hour human inspired kiss Lest we forget light lines little poem live look Lord love thee Messrs mind mist moon never night o'er old familiar faces old Kentucky home passion Phyllida poet poet's poetry prose rhyme rind Robert Buchanan round Rupert Brooke seems shine sings Sir Henry Newbolt slave sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit stanzas stars Stephen Coleridge sweet taste tears thine things Thomas Hood thou art thought trees trysting tree verse volume waves weary weep wild wonderful words Wordsworth write written wrote
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Стр. 80 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn ; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away ! I remember, I remember...
Стр. 127 - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below — As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow ; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Стр. 84 - Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth ; And constancy lives in realms above ; And life is thorny ; and youth is vain ; And to be wroth with one we love, Doth work like madness in the brain.
Стр. 125 - This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea...
Стр. 29 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.
Стр. 144 - FATHER of all! in every age, In every clime adored, By saint, by savage, and by sage, Jehovah, Jove, or Lord ! Thou great First Cause, least understood, Who all my sense confined To know but this, that Thou art good, And that myself am blind...
Стр. 76 - ... 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 ? Alas ! for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun ! Oh ! it was pitiful ! Near a whole city full, Home she had none.
Стр. 123 - Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it: if a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned.
Стр. 75 - One more Unfortunate Weary of breath, Rashly importunate, Gone to her death ! Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care ; Fashion'd so slenderly, Young, and so fair!
Стр. 143 - Happy the man*, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire, Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter, fire.