The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English LanguageMacmillan, 1924 - Всего страниц: 483 |
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Стр. 63
... soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker , and present My true account , lest He returning chide , - Doth God exact day - labour , light denied ? I fondly ask : -But Patience , to prevent That murmur , soon replies ; God doth not need ...
... soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker , and present My true account , lest He returning chide , - Doth God exact day - labour , light denied ? I fondly ask : -But Patience , to prevent That murmur , soon replies ; God doth not need ...
Стр. 65
... soul to fancy aught But a white , celestial thought ; When yet I had not walk'd above A mile or two from my first Love , And looking back , at that short space Could see a glimpse of His bright face ; When on some gilded cloud or flower ...
... soul to fancy aught But a white , celestial thought ; When yet I had not walk'd above A mile or two from my first Love , And looking back , at that short space Could see a glimpse of His bright face ; When on some gilded cloud or flower ...
Стр. 66
... soul with too much stay Is drunk , and staggers in the way Some men a forward motion love , But I by backward steps would move ; And when this dust falls to the urn , In that state I came , return . H. VAUGHAN . 20 25 35 30 30 76 TO MR ...
... soul with too much stay Is drunk , and staggers in the way Some men a forward motion love , But I by backward steps would move ; And when this dust falls to the urn , In that state I came , return . H. VAUGHAN . 20 25 35 30 30 76 TO MR ...
Стр. 77
... soul doth rise 5 Doth ask a drink divine ; But might I of Jove's nectar sup , I would not change for thine . I sent thee late a rosy wreath , Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not wither'd be ; But thou ...
... soul doth rise 5 Doth ask a drink divine ; But might I of Jove's nectar sup , I would not change for thine . I sent thee late a rosy wreath , Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not wither'd be ; But thou ...
Стр. 82
... quiet take That for an hermitage : If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free , Angels alone , that soar above , Enjoy such liberty . COLONEL LOVELACE . 30 100 TO LUCASTA , ON GOING BEYOND THE SEAS If 32 82 LOVELACE.
... quiet take That for an hermitage : If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free , Angels alone , that soar above , Enjoy such liberty . COLONEL LOVELACE . 30 100 TO LUCASTA , ON GOING BEYOND THE SEAS If 32 82 LOVELACE.
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The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English Language Полный просмотр - 1863 |
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A. C. SWINBURNE A. H. CLOUGH appeared ballad beauty Ben Jonson birds Boeotia breath bright Brignall called dæmons dark dead dear death doth dream earth edition England's Helicon English eyes fair flowers golden Greek mythology green hand happy hast hath head hear heart heaven hill Itylus king kiss land leaves light lips live look Lord LORD BYRON LORD TENNYSON lovers Lycidas lyre meaning Milton mind morning Muse ne'er never night o'er Palgrave Pindar pleasure poem poet poetry printed published ring river rose round sense SHAKESPEARE shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song sonnet sorrow soul sound spirit spring stanza stars stream sung sweet tears tell thee thine thou art thought tree verse voice waves weep wild winds wings word WORDSWORTH written Yarrow youth
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Стр. 250 - Earth has not anything to show more fair : Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers,, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Стр. 179 - 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. 249 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
Стр. 64 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log, at last, dry, bald, and sere: A lily of a day, Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall, and die that night; It was the plant, and flower of light. In small proportions, we just beauties see: And in short measures, life may perfect be.
Стр. 211 - MILTON ! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart : Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea : Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou...
Стр. 145 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn. Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Стр. 181 - Nor shall she fail to see Even in the motions of the storm Grace that shall mould the maiden's form By silent sympathy. 'The stars of midnight shall be dear To her ; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
Стр. 366 - Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light : The year is dying in the night ; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow The year is going, let him go ; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Стр. 18 - 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. 178 - She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.