Pen and pencil pictures from the poetsW.P. Nimmo, 1866 - 150 стор. |
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Сторінка
... dream of love through its bosom , Tremulous , floating in air , o'er the depths of the azure abysses . Down through the golden leaves the sun was pouring his splendours , Gleaming on purple grapes , that , from branches above them ...
... dream of love through its bosom , Tremulous , floating in air , o'er the depths of the azure abysses . Down through the golden leaves the sun was pouring his splendours , Gleaming on purple grapes , that , from branches above them ...
Сторінка
... dream of love through its bosom , Tremulous , floating in air , o'er the depths of the azure abysses . Down through the golden leaves the sun was pouring his splendours , Gleaming on purple grapes , that , from branches above them ...
... dream of love through its bosom , Tremulous , floating in air , o'er the depths of the azure abysses . Down through the golden leaves the sun was pouring his splendours , Gleaming on purple grapes , that , from branches above them ...
Сторінка 7
... dream of love through its bosom , Tremulous , floating in air , o'er the depths of the azure abysses . Down through the golden leaves the sun was pouring his splendours , Gleaming on purple grapes , that , from branches above them ...
... dream of love through its bosom , Tremulous , floating in air , o'er the depths of the azure abysses . Down through the golden leaves the sun was pouring his splendours , Gleaming on purple grapes , that , from branches above them ...
Сторінка 7
... dream of love through its bosom , Tremulous , floating in air , o'er the depths of the azure abysses . Down through the golden leaves the sun was pouring his splendours , Gleaming on purple grapes , that , from branches above them ...
... dream of love through its bosom , Tremulous , floating in air , o'er the depths of the azure abysses . Down through the golden leaves the sun was pouring his splendours , Gleaming on purple grapes , that , from branches above them ...
Сторінка 109
... dream . Thou stock - dove , whose echo resounds through the glen , Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den , Thou green - crested lapwing , thy screaming forbear- I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair . How lofty , sweet ...
... dream . Thou stock - dove , whose echo resounds through the glen , Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den , Thou green - crested lapwing , thy screaming forbear- I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair . How lofty , sweet ...
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AFTON WATER amid ANCIENT PRUDE APOSTROPHE TO NATURE BAPTISM OF JESUS beautiful behold beneath birds bloom Bolton bowers breast breath bridal procession bright brook calm CASTLE OF INDOLENCE clouds COWPER daisies dewy doth dreams dwell Eshcol Excelsior flowers forlorn gentle George Hay glade gleaming golden golden sun green hand happy hath hear heart heaven Hermit Hesperus hills Hugh Cameron IL PENSEROSO J. M. Corner Keeley Halswelle lady sleeps laugh leaves LESSON OF THANKFULNESS life-boat light LONGFELLOW lovers M'Whirter MESSIAH morning Mountain mourn murmured N. P. WILLIS ne'er nonny o'er Onward the bridal Paterson PENCIL PICTURES Priscilla quiet rich round S. J. Groves scorn shades silent silver skies smile snow soft Spring star stock dove stream summer night sunny vale thee thou thoughts trees twilight village voice wander Wedding Procession wild wind winter woods WORDSWORTH youth
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Сторінка 120 - Happy the man*, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire, Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter, fire.
Сторінка 135 - Hope humbly then ; with trembling pinions soar ; Wait the great teacher Death ; and God adore. What future bliss, he gives not thee to know, But gives that Hope to be thy blessing now. Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never Is, but always To be blest: The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
Сторінка 46 - So many hours must I tend my flock; So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself...
Сторінка 135 - Heav'n from all creatures hides the book of fate, All but the page prescribed, their present state : From brutes what men, from men what spirits know : • Or who could suffer being here below ? The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play ? Pleas'd to the last, he crops the flow'ry food, And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood.
Сторінка 59 - Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around; And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, That one small head could carry, all he knew. But past is all his fame. The very spot Where many a time he triumphed, is forgot. Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high, Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye...
Сторінка 70 - SPRING, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo ! The palm and may make country houses gay, Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day.
Сторінка 85 - The shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth who bore, 'mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, Excelsior ! His brow was sad ; his eye beneath Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, Excelsior...
Сторінка 46 - To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery ? O, yes it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth. And to conclude, — the shepherd's homely curds, His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, Is far beyond a prince's delicates, His viands sparkling in a golden cup, • His body couched in a curious bed, When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.
Сторінка 140 - Tired with all these, for restful death I cry: As, to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn, And gilded honour shamefully misplaced, And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority, And folly doctor-like controlling skill, And simple truth miscall'd simplicity, And captive good attending captain ill.
Сторінка 102 - Whose state can neither flatterers feed, Nor ruin make oppressors great. Who God doth late and early pray, More of his grace than...