The Poetical Works of Thomas MooreLongman, Brown, Green and Longmans, 1844 - 691 стор. |
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Anacreon ancient bard beam beautiful beneath bless blest bliss bloom blushing bower breath bright bright eyes brow called Catullus charm Cicero Cupid dance dark dear death divine dream e'er earth Epicurus epigram ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fancy feel flame flowers friends glory grace hand hath heart heaven hope hour Irish King LALLA ROOKH light lips live look look'd Lord lov'd Love's lover lute lyre maid morning ne'er never night nymph o'er once OVID pass'd Persian Plato Plutarch poem poet rose round Sappho scene seem'd shade shine shone sigh sing sleep smile song soul spirit star sung sweet tears tell thee there's thine things thou thought turn'd Twas twill Twixt voice wave weep Whig wild wings words young youth
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Сторінка 191 - You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will. But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.
Сторінка 243 - This world is all a fleeting show For man's illusion given ; The smiles of joy, the tears of woe, Deceitful shine, deceitful flow, — There's nothing true but Heaven...
Сторінка 224 - Those joyous hours are past away ; And many a heart, that then was gay, Within the tomb now darkly dwells, And hears no more those evening bells. And so 'twill be when I am gone ; That tuneful peal will still ring on, While other bards shall walk these dells, And sing your praise, sweet evening...
Сторінка 179 - Shall I ask the brave soldier, who fights by my side In the cause of mankind, if our creeds agree ? Shall I give up the friend I have valued and tried, If he kneel not before the same altar with me ? From the heretic girl of my soul shall I fly, To seek somewhere else a more orthodox kiss?
Сторінка 176 - Twas not the soft magic of streamlet or hill ! Oh ! no ; it was something more exquisite still. 'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near, Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear ; And who felt how the best charms of nature improve When we see them reflected from looks that we love.
Сторінка 173 - But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps ; And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
Сторінка 189 - I'll not leave thee, thou lone one ! To pine on the stem ; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead.
Сторінка 226 - Oft in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me : The smiles, the tears Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken ; The eyes that shone, Now dimm'd and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken ! Thus in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me.
Сторінка 353 - tis sweet to me ! There — drink my tears, while yet they fall — Would that my bosom's blood were balm, And, well thou know'st, I'd shed it all, To give thy brow one minute's calm.
Сторінка 184 - OH! the days are gone, when Beauty bright My heart's chain wove ; When my dream of life, from morn till night, Was love, still love. New hope may bloom, And days may come Of milder, calmer beam, But there's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream : No, there's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream. Tho...