The golden treasury: selected from the best songs and lyrical poems in the English language and arranged with notes by Francis T. Palgrave ... Revised and enlargedMacmillan & Company, limited, 1896 - 387 стор. |
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Сторінка 19
... Sorrow proud to be advanced so In those fair eyes where all perfections keep . Her face was full of woe , But such a woe ( believe me ) as wins more hearts Than Mirth can do with her enticing parts . Sorrow was there made fair , And ...
... Sorrow proud to be advanced so In those fair eyes where all perfections keep . Her face was full of woe , But such a woe ( believe me ) as wins more hearts Than Mirth can do with her enticing parts . Sorrow was there made fair , And ...
Сторінка 28
... sorrow : Still let me sleep , embracing clouds in vain , And never wake to feel the day's disdain . S. Daniel XLVII The nightingale , as soon as April bringeth Unto her rested sense a perfect waking , While late - bare earth , proud of ...
... sorrow : Still let me sleep , embracing clouds in vain , And never wake to feel the day's disdain . S. Daniel XLVII The nightingale , as soon as April bringeth Unto her rested sense a perfect waking , While late - bare earth , proud of ...
Сторінка 37
... sorrow , father's joy ; When thy father first did see Such a boy by him and me , He was glad , I was woe , Fortune changéd made him so , When he left his pretty boy Last his sorrow , first his joy . Weep not , my wanton , smile upon my ...
... sorrow , father's joy ; When thy father first did see Such a boy by him and me , He was glad , I was woe , Fortune changéd made him so , When he left his pretty boy Last his sorrow , first his joy . Weep not , my wanton , smile upon my ...
Сторінка 38
... sorrow hide : He must go , he must kiss Child and mother , baby bless , For he left his pretty boy , Father's sorrow , father's joy . Weep not , my wanton , smile upon my knee , When thou art old , there's grief enough for thee . R ...
... sorrow hide : He must go , he must kiss Child and mother , baby bless , For he left his pretty boy , Father's sorrow , father's joy . Weep not , my wanton , smile upon my knee , When thou art old , there's grief enough for thee . R ...
Сторінка 45
... sorrow ; Sweet air blow soft , mount larks aloft To give my Love good - morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind Notes from the lark I'll borrow ; Bird , prune thy wing , nightingale sing , To give my Love good - morrow ; To give ...
... sorrow ; Sweet air blow soft , mount larks aloft To give my Love good - morrow ! Wings from the wind to please her mind Notes from the lark I'll borrow ; Bird , prune thy wing , nightingale sing , To give my Love good - morrow ; To give ...
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Arethuse beauty beneath birds bonnie bower breast breath bright Brignall brow clouds County Guy dark dead dear death deep delight dost doth dream earth ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA eyes F. T. PALGRAVE fair Fancy fear flowers frae FRANCIS TURNER PALGRAVE gentle glory Gray green H. F. Lyte happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill kiss leaves light live look'd Lord Lord Byron Love's lover Lycidas lyre LYRICAL maid MATTHEW ARNOLD mind morn mountains Muse ne'er never night Nymph o'er P. B. Shelley pale passion pleasure poem Poetry poets rose round seem'd shade Shakespeare sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit Spring star stream sweet tears tell thee There's thine thou art thought tree Twas voice waly waly wanton waves weep wild winds wings Wordsworth Yarrow youth
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Сторінка 204 - She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies, And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes ; Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Сторінка 326 - given our hearts away, a sordid boon ! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon, The winds that will be howling at all hours And are up-gather'd now like sleeping flowers. For this, for every thing, we are out of tune ; It moves us not.—Great God ! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled
Сторінка 65 - roll'd Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans The vales redoubled to the hills, and they To Heaven. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway The triple Tyrant: that from these may grow A hundred-fold, who, having learnt Thy way, Early may fly the Babylonian woe.
Сторінка 337 - cccxxxvn My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky : So was it when my life began, So is it now I am a man, So be it when I shall grow old Or let me die ! The Child is father of the Man
Сторінка 328 - Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare ; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve ; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair ! Ah, happy, happy boughs ! that cannot shed
Сторінка 127 - I saw Eternity the other night, Like a great ring of pure and endless light, All calm, as it was bright : — And round beneath it, Time, in hours, days, years, Driven by the spheres, Like a vast shadow moved ; in which the World And all her train were hurl'd. H. Vaughan
Сторінка 140 - on his funeral couch he lies! No pitying heart, no eye, afford While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes: Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm ; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That hush d in grim repose expects his evening prey.
Сторінка 23 - 2 , That time of year thou may'st 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
Сторінка 276 - on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards : Already with thee ! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster d around by all her starry Fays ; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding
Сторінка 77 - 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. Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, In small proportions we just beauties see ; And in short measures life may perfect be.