Select specimens of the English poets, ed. by A. De Vere |
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Сторінка 9
The rocks do not so cruelly Repulse the waves continually , As she my suit and
affection ; So that I am past remedy ; Whereby my lute and I have done . Proud of
the spoil that thou hast got Of simple hearts , thorough Love ' s shot , By whom ...
The rocks do not so cruelly Repulse the waves continually , As she my suit and
affection ; So that I am past remedy ; Whereby my lute and I have done . Proud of
the spoil that thou hast got Of simple hearts , thorough Love ' s shot , By whom ...
Сторінка 17
THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE . Come live with me and be my
love , And we will all the pleasures prove That valleys , groves , and hills , and
fields , Woods , or steepy mountain yields . And we will sit upon the rocks ,
Seeing the ...
THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE . Come live with me and be my
love , And we will all the pleasures prove That valleys , groves , and hills , and
fields , Woods , or steepy mountain yields . And we will sit upon the rocks ,
Seeing the ...
Сторінка 40
May pure contents For ever pitch their tents Upon these downs , these meads ,
these rocks , these mountains , And peace still ... Shall I , like a hermit , dwell On
a rock , or in a cell , Calling home the smallest part That is missing of my heart , !
May pure contents For ever pitch their tents Upon these downs , these meads ,
these rocks , these mountains , And peace still ... Shall I , like a hermit , dwell On
a rock , or in a cell , Calling home the smallest part That is missing of my heart , !
Сторінка 49
Wilt thou , upon the high and giddy mast , Seal up the ship - boy ' s eyes , and
rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge , And in the visitation of the
winds , Who take the ruffian billows by the top , Curling their monstrous heads ,
and ...
Wilt thou , upon the high and giddy mast , Seal up the ship - boy ' s eyes , and
rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge , And in the visitation of the
winds , Who take the ruffian billows by the top , Curling their monstrous heads ,
and ...
Сторінка 54
... Sickness , with her kercher ' d head up wound , And thousand noisome
plagues attend her round . But if her cloudy brow but once grow foul , The flints
do melt , and rocks to water roll , And airy mountains shake , and frighted
shadows howl .
... Sickness , with her kercher ' d head up wound , And thousand noisome
plagues attend her round . But if her cloudy brow but once grow foul , The flints
do melt , and rocks to water roll , And airy mountains shake , and frighted
shadows howl .
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Select Specimens of the English Poets, Ed. by A. de Vere Aubrey Thomas De Vere Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2016 |
Select Specimens of the English Poets, Ed by a de Vere Aubrey De Vere Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2012 |
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beauty birds blood born breath bright bring clouds court dark dead dear death deep delight died doth early earth eyes face fair fall fame fear field fire flowers give glory grace grave grow hand happy hast hath head hear heart heaven hill honour hope hour human Italy king land learning leaves less light living looks Lord mind morn mortal nature never night o'er once pass play pleasure poems poet poetry rest rich rise rocks rose round seems shine sight silent sing sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit spring stars sweet tears Tell thee thine things thou thought trees true turn unto voice wind wings woods youth
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 253 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day...
Сторінка 254 - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of poesy...
Сторінка 252 - Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness ! Close bosom-friend of the maturing Sun ! Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run ; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core...
Сторінка 248 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Сторінка 47 - The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in, Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Сторінка 18 - And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle...
Сторінка 94 - Enlarged winds, that curl the flood, Know no such liberty. Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and 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.
Сторінка 149 - The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death...
Сторінка 152 - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossomed furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view ; I knew him well, and every truant knew. Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face...
Сторінка 44 - Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference ; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind ; Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, — This is no flattery : these are counsellors, That feelingly persuade me what I am.