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" Was as a mockery of the tomb, Whose tints as gently sunk away As a departing rainbow's ray. An eye of most transparent light, That almost made the dungeon bright, And not a word of murmur — not A groan o'er his untimely lot, A little talk of better... "
The Critical Review: Or, Annals of Literature - Стр. 573
редактор(ы): - 1816
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English Prose and Poetry (1137-1892).

John Matthews Manly - 1916 - Страниц: 792
...That almost made the dungeo And not a word of murmur — A groan o'er his untimely lot ! A little talk s us is trial, and trial is by what :is contrary. That virtue there — lo It ceased, and then it came again, The sweetest song ear ever heard ; And mine was thankful,...
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One Hundred Narrative Poems

George E. Teter - 1918 - Страниц: 436
...the dungeon bright, And not a word of murmur, not A groan o'er his untimely lot, — A little talk of better days, A little hope my own to raise, For...hear — I called, for I was wild with fear; I knew 't was hopeless, but my dread Would not be thus admonished; I called, and thought I heard a sound —...
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Everyday Classics: Primer-eighth Reader, Книги 8

Franklin Thomas Baker, Ashley Horace Thorndike - 1918
...And not a word of murmur — not A groan o'er his untimely lot, — A little talk of better days, i5 A little hope my own to raise, For I was sunk in silence...he would suppress Of fainting Nature's feebleness, 20 More slowly drawn, grew less and less: I listened, but I could not hear; I called, for I was wild...
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Everyday Classics: Eighth Reader : the Introduction to Literature

Franklin Thomas Baker, Ashley Horace Thorndike - 1918 - Страниц: 415
...And not a word of murmur — not A groan o'er his untimely lot, — A little talk of better days, 15' A little hope my own to raise, For I was sunk in silence...he would suppress Of fainting Nature's feebleness, 20 More slowly drawn, grew less and less : I listened, but I could not hear ; I called, for I was wild...
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Poems of the English Race

Raymond Macdonald Alden - 1921 - Страниц: 410
...A little talk of better days, A little hope my own to raise, For I was sunk in silence — lost 200 In this last loss, of all the most ; And then the...less and less. I listened, but I could not hear; . I caUed, for I was wild with fear : I knew 'twas hopeless, but my dread Would not be thus admonished;...
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A Book of British and American Verse

Henry Van Dyke, Hardin Craig, Asa Don Dickinson - 1922 - Страниц: 1908
...the dungeon bright, And not a word of murmur, not A groan o'er his untimely lot, — A little talk of better days, A little hope my own to raise. For...feebleness, More slowly drawn, grew less and less : I listen'd, but I could not hear; I call'd, for I was wild with fear; I knew "t was hopeless, but my...
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English Poetry of the Nineteenth Century: A Connected Representation of ...

George Roy Elliott, Norman Foerster - 1923 - Страниц: 825
...dungeon bright, 195 And not a word of murmur, not A groan o'er his untimely lot, — A little talk of better days, A little hope my own to raise, For I was sunk in silence — lost 200 In this last loss, of all the most. And then the sighs he would suppress Of fainting nature's feebleness,...
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The Modern Student's Book of English Literature

Harry Morgan Ayres - 1924 - Страниц: 898
...the dungeon bright, And not a word of murmur, not A groan o'er his untimely lot, — A little talk now. ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE MY heart aches, and a drowsy...past, and Lethe-wards had sunk : 'Tis not through listen'd, but I could not hear ; I call'd, for I was wild with fear ; I knew 'twas hopeless, but my...
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Literature and Life, Книги 2

Edwin Almiron Greenlaw, William Harris Elson, Christine M. Keck - 1922
...A little talk of better days, A little hope my own to raise, For I was sunk in silence — lost 200 In this last loss, of all the most; And then the sighs...grew less and less. I listened, but I could not hear — 205 I called, for I was wild with fear; I knew 'twas hopeless, but my dread Would not be thus admonished;...
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British Poets of the Nineteenth Century: Poems by Wordsworth, Coleridge ...

Curtis Hidden Page - 1924 - Страниц: 458
...the dungeon bright, And not a word of murmur, not A groan o'er his untimely lot, — A little talk of better days, A little hope my own to raise, For...silence — lost In this last loss, of all the most,; Ard then the sighs he would suppress Of fainting nature's feebleness, More slowly drawn, grew less...
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