Descriptive and reflective verseHenry Van Dyke, Hardin Craig Doubleday, Page, 1905 |
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Сторінка 10
... Till the dappled dawn doth rise ; Then to come , in spite of sorrow , And at my window bid good - morrow , Through the sweet - briar or the vine , Or the twisted eglantine ; While the cock , with lively din , Scatters the rear of ...
... Till the dappled dawn doth rise ; Then to come , in spite of sorrow , And at my window bid good - morrow , Through the sweet - briar or the vine , Or the twisted eglantine ; While the cock , with lively din , Scatters the rear of ...
Сторінка 12
... Till the livelong daylight fail : Then to the spicy nut - brown ale , With stories told of many a feat , How Faery Mab the junkets eat . She was pinched and pulled , she said ; And he , by Friar's lanthorn led , Tells how the drudging ...
... Till the livelong daylight fail : Then to the spicy nut - brown ale , With stories told of many a feat , How Faery Mab the junkets eat . She was pinched and pulled , she said ; And he , by Friar's lanthorn led , Tells how the drudging ...
Сторінка 15
... till With a sad leaden downward cast Thou fix them on the earth as fast . And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet , Spare Fast , that oft with gods doth diet , And hears the Muses in a ring Aye round about Jove's altar sing ; And add to ...
... till With a sad leaden downward cast Thou fix them on the earth as fast . And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet , Spare Fast , that oft with gods doth diet , And hears the Muses in a ring Aye round about Jove's altar sing ; And add to ...
Сторінка 18
... Till civil - suited Morn appear , Not tricked and frounced , as she was wont With the Attic boy to hunt , But kerchieft in a comely cloud , While rocking winds are piping loud , Or ushered with a shower still , When the gust hath blown ...
... Till civil - suited Morn appear , Not tricked and frounced , as she was wont With the Attic boy to hunt , But kerchieft in a comely cloud , While rocking winds are piping loud , Or ushered with a shower still , When the gust hath blown ...
Сторінка 19
... Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain . These pleasures , Melancholy , give , And I with thee will choose to live . 1632 ? 1645 . John Milton 150 160 170 THE GARDEN How vainly men themselves amaze , To win 19 ...
... Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain . These pleasures , Melancholy , give , And I with thee will choose to live . 1632 ? 1645 . John Milton 150 160 170 THE GARDEN How vainly men themselves amaze , To win 19 ...
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beauty behold beneath bird blow blue breast breath bright brow calm clouds dark dead death deep dome doth dream dreary earth eyes fear flame floats flowers gleaming glory gone gray green hand hath hear heard heart heaven Henry Wadsworth Longfellow hills isles land leap leaves light living Locksley Hall lone look Lord Tennyson marshes of Glynn Matthew Arnold mighty moon morn mountain never night nursling o'er ocean once passion Percy Bysshe Shelley plain pleasure purple rain Ralph Waldo Emerson rest river Robert Browning rock round sail Samian wine Samuel Taylor Coleridge Saul shade shine shore sight silent sing sleep soft song soul sound spirit stars stream sweet thee thine things thou art thought thro toil trees unseen voice wandering waves weary wild William Wordsworth winds wings woods Yarrow youth ΙΟ
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Сторінка 10 - To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise...
Сторінка 13 - With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit, or arms, while both contend To win her grace, whom all commend. There let Hymen oft appear In saffron robe, with taper clear, And pomp, and feast, and revelry, With mask, and antique pageantry, Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream.
Сторінка 10 - Jest, and youthful jollity, Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek ; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides : — Come, and trip it as you go On the light fantastic toe...
Сторінка 280 - But now I only hear Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world.
Сторінка 161 - Will no one tell me what she sings? — Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
Сторінка 16 - Oft, on a plat of rising ground, I hear the far-off curfew sound Over some wide-watered shore, Swinging slow with sullen roar; Or if the air will not permit. Some still removed place will fit, Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth, Or the bellman's drowsy charm To bless the doors from nightly harm.
Сторінка 48 - Of towns and cities, I have owed to them, In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind, With tranquil restoration...
Сторінка 51 - Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith that all which we behold Is full...
Сторінка 11 - Where the great Sun begins his state Robed in flames and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight; While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrowed land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Сторінка 75 - THE isles of Greece ! the isles of Greece ! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, — • Where grew the arts of war and peace,— Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set...