Harper's Cyclopædia of British and American PoetryEpes Sargent Harper & Brothers, 1881 - 958 стор. |
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Сторінка 42
... twas gold , Her body was the Electrum , and did hold Many degrees of that - we understood . Her by her sight : her pure and eloquent blood Spoke in her cheeks , and so distinctly wrought , That one might almost say her body thought ...
... twas gold , Her body was the Electrum , and did hold Many degrees of that - we understood . Her by her sight : her pure and eloquent blood Spoke in her cheeks , and so distinctly wrought , That one might almost say her body thought ...
Сторінка 56
... Twas pity Nature brought ye forth Merely to show your worth And lose you quite . • But you are lovely leaves , where we May read how soon things have Their end , though ne'er so brave : And after they have shown their pride , Like you ...
... Twas pity Nature brought ye forth Merely to show your worth And lose you quite . • But you are lovely leaves , where we May read how soon things have Their end , though ne'er so brave : And after they have shown their pride , Like you ...
Сторінка 78
... Twas " Fareweel , sweetheart ! " said the string , By the bonny mill - dams o ' Binnorie . And then , as plain as plain could be , ( Binnorie , O Binnorie ! ) " There sits my sister who drownéd me ! " By the bonny mill - dams o ...
... Twas " Fareweel , sweetheart ! " said the string , By the bonny mill - dams o ' Binnorie . And then , as plain as plain could be , ( Binnorie , O Binnorie ! ) " There sits my sister who drownéd me ! " By the bonny mill - dams o ...
Сторінка 104
... Twas English cut on Greek and Latin , Like fustian heretofore on satin . It had an odd promiscuous tone , As if he'd talked three parts in one . Which made some think when he did gabble They'd heard three laborers of Babel , Or Cerberus ...
... Twas English cut on Greek and Latin , Like fustian heretofore on satin . It had an odd promiscuous tone , As if he'd talked three parts in one . Which made some think when he did gabble They'd heard three laborers of Babel , Or Cerberus ...
Сторінка 105
... twas all authority . Some people's fortunes , like a weft or stray , Are only gained by losing of their way . The truest characters of ignorance Are vanity and pride and arrogance , As blind men use to bear their noses higher Than those ...
... twas all authority . Some people's fortunes , like a weft or stray , Are only gained by losing of their way . The truest characters of ignorance Are vanity and pride and arrogance , As blind men use to bear their noses higher Than those ...
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Harper's Cyclopaedia of British and American Poetry (Classic Reprint) Epes Sargent Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2018 |
Загальні терміни та фрази
beauty Ben Jonson beneath Binnorie birds blessed bonny born breast breath bright brow busk Charles Lamb charms Chevy Chase clouds dark dead dear death deep delight divine doth dream earth eternal eyes fair fame father fear flowers frae glory grace green grief Grongar Hill hame hand happy hast hath Hazelgreen hear heart heaven heir of Linne hope hour immortal king kiss land lassie leave light live look Lord Lycidas mind morning mortal native Nature's ne'er never night numbers Nut-brown Maide o'er pain pleasure poem poet praise Robin Hood rose round Scotland shade shine sigh sing Sir Patrick Spens sleep smile song sonnets sorrow soul sound spirit stars Stutly sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought Twas verse voice waves weep wild wind wings wrote Yarrow young youth
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Сторінка 99 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide, ' Doth God exact day-labor, light denied ?
Сторінка 413 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning.
Сторінка 664 - art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!
Сторінка 664 - Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as
Сторінка 183 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Сторінка 290 - Nor Man nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy ! Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
Сторінка 310 - And now the storm-blast came, and he Was tyrannous and strong: He struck with his o'ertaking wings, And chased us south along. With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, And forward bends his head, The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, And southward aye we fled.
Сторінка 414 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Сторінка 653 - And burst the cannon's roar; — The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, And waves were white below, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee; — The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea!
Сторінка 663 - Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow— sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Nameless here for evermore.