The Golden Treasury of the Best Songs and Lyrical Poems in the English Language

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Macmillan and Company, 1867 - 332 стор.

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Рецензія користувача  - PollyMoore3 - LibraryThing

An updated version including some more modern poems. Among many favourites, it includes Ben Jonson's “Hymn to Diana”, one of the most perfect lyrics in the English language (you can recite it to the moon, and I have been known to), and “It is not growing like a tree”. Читати огляд повністю

LibraryThing Review

Рецензія користувача  - chibitika - LibraryThing

English poetry from the 1500's through the 1800's. Dedicated to Alfred Tennyson, Poet Laureate of Great Britain and Ireland from 1850-1892. It has end notes with lots of extra information, an index of ... Читати огляд повністю


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Сторінка 295 - O joy ! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That Nature yet remembers What was so fugitive ! The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction : not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest, Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of childhood, whether busy or at rest,
Сторінка 239 - The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed ; And on the pedestal these words appear : ' My name is Ozymandias, king of kings : Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair !' Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, The lone and level sands stretch far away. P. B, Shelley
Сторінка 17 - boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest 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,
Сторінка 50 - that 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
Сторінка 207 - ccxv HOHENLINDEN On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night , Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery. By torch and trumpet fast array'd
Сторінка 291 - 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 : And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. W. Wordsworth
Сторінка 295 - new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast: —Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise ; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things.. Fallings from us, vanishings, Blank misgivings of a creature Moving about in worlds not realized, High instincts, before which
Сторінка 28 - XLVI A SEA DIRGE Full fathom five thy father lies : Of his bones are coral made ; Those are pearls that were his eyes : Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange ; Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : Hark ! now I hear them,— Ding, dong, Bell. W. Shakespeare
Сторінка 144 - her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere ; Heaven did a recompense as largely send : He gave to Misery all he had, a tear, He gain'd from Heaven, 'twas all he wish'd, a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties
Сторінка 92 - Mirth, Whom lovely Venus at a birth With two sister Graces more To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore : Or whether (as some sager sing) The frolic wind that breathes the spring Zephyr, with Aurora playing, As he met her once a-Maying— There on beds of violets blue And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew Fill'd her with

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