Descriptive and reflective verseHenry Van Dyke, Hardin Craig Doubleday, Page, 1905 |
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Сторінка 13
... voice through mazes running , Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony ; That Orpheus ' self may heave his head From golden slumber on a bed Of heaped Elysian flowers , and hear Such strains as would have won the ...
... voice through mazes running , Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony ; That Orpheus ' self may heave his head From golden slumber on a bed Of heaped Elysian flowers , and hear Such strains as would have won the ...
Сторінка 32
... voice , with ascription one , The woods and the marsh and the sea and my soul Unto thee , whence the glittering stream of all morrows doth roll , Cry good and past good and most heavenly morrow , Lord Sun. 150 O Artisan born in the ...
... voice , with ascription one , The woods and the marsh and the sea and my soul Unto thee , whence the glittering stream of all morrows doth roll , Cry good and past good and most heavenly morrow , Lord Sun. 150 O Artisan born in the ...
Сторінка 51
... voice I catch The language of my former heart , and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes . Oh ! yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once , My dear , dear Sister ! and this prayer I make ...
... voice I catch The language of my former heart , and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes . Oh ! yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once , My dear , dear Sister ! and this prayer I make ...
Сторінка 52
... voice , nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence - wilt thou then forget That on the banks of this delightful stream We stood together ; and that I , so long A worshipper of Nature , hither came Unwearied in that ...
... voice , nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence - wilt thou then forget That on the banks of this delightful stream We stood together ; and that I , so long A worshipper of Nature , hither came Unwearied in that ...
Сторінка 63
... voice of wail But the sea - mews , as they sail O'er the billows of the gale ; Or the whirlwind up and down Howling , like a slaughtered town , When a king in glory rides Through the pomp of fratricides : Those unburied bones around ...
... voice of wail But the sea - mews , as they sail O'er the billows of the gale ; Or the whirlwind up and down Howling , like a slaughtered town , When a king in glory rides Through the pomp of fratricides : Those unburied bones around ...
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Загальні терміни та фрази
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...