Simple English poems, ed. by H.C. BowenHerbert Courthope Bowen 1879 |
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Сторінка 7
... poem through aloud two or three times , in order to get an idea of it as a whole , and to show that he has really mastered its meaning . JUNE 1879 . H. COURTHOPE BOWEN . CONTENTS OF PART I. BLAKE , WILLIAM : A Dream HOW TO USE THE BOOK .
... poem through aloud two or three times , in order to get an idea of it as a whole , and to show that he has really mastered its meaning . JUNE 1879 . H. COURTHOPE BOWEN . CONTENTS OF PART I. BLAKE , WILLIAM : A Dream HOW TO USE THE BOOK .
Сторінка 9
Herbert Courthope Bowen. CONTENTS OF PART I. BLAKE , WILLIAM : A Dream · COWPER , WILLIAM : John Gilpin Boadicea • • HEMANS , FELICIA DOROTHEA : The Pilgrim Fathers · LONGFELLOW , HENRY WADSWORTH : The Village Blacksmith SCOTT , SIR ...
Herbert Courthope Bowen. CONTENTS OF PART I. BLAKE , WILLIAM : A Dream · COWPER , WILLIAM : John Gilpin Boadicea • • HEMANS , FELICIA DOROTHEA : The Pilgrim Fathers · LONGFELLOW , HENRY WADSWORTH : The Village Blacksmith SCOTT , SIR ...
Сторінка 11
... DREAM . ONCE a dream did weave a shade O'er my angel - guarded bed , That an emmet lost its way , Where on grass methought I lay . Troubled , wildered , and forlorn , Dark , benighted , travel - worn , Over many a tangled spray , All ...
... DREAM . ONCE a dream did weave a shade O'er my angel - guarded bed , That an emmet lost its way , Where on grass methought I lay . Troubled , wildered , and forlorn , Dark , benighted , travel - worn , Over many a tangled spray , All ...
Сторінка 21
... dream . 180 " There's neither dog nor heifer , horse nor sheep , Will wet his lips within that cup of stone ; And oftentimes , when all are fast asleep , This water doth send forth a dolorous groan . " Some say that here a murder has ...
... dream . 180 " There's neither dog nor heifer , horse nor sheep , Will wet his lips within that cup of stone ; And oftentimes , when all are fast asleep , This water doth send forth a dolorous groan . " Some say that here a murder has ...
Сторінка 42
... DREAM . The special beauty of this little poem is its perfect sim- plicity . But , over and above this , it charms us by its exquisite , tender feeling for so small a creature as an ant . No one has ever loved the small things of this ...
... DREAM . The special beauty of this little poem is its perfect sim- plicity . But , over and above this , it charms us by its exquisite , tender feeling for so small a creature as an ant . No one has ever loved the small things of this ...
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Simple English Poems, Ed. by H.C. Bowen Herbert Courthope Bowen Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2016 |
Simple English Poems, Ed. by H.C. Bowen Herbert Courthope Bowen Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2016 |
Загальні терміни та фрази
Agnes ALFRED TENNYSON Ancient Mariner Battle of Blenheim beauty bell breath bright Byron called Chevy Chase child clouds Coleridge cried dark dead dear death deep Dora doth dream Earl Douglas Earl Percy earth English Excalibur expression eyes Faerie Faerie Queene French Gilpin gods hand harken ere Hart-Leap hath hear heard heart heaven hill holy Hyperion Inchcape Rock Julius Cæsar Keats King Arthur land legends light living look Lord meaning merry MILTON moon Morte d'Arthur mother Ida never night noble Notice o'er pale Paradise Lost poem poet poetry pupils Queene Quoth ROBERT SOUTHEY round Saturn seem'd SHAKSPERE Sir Bedivere Sir John Moore slain song soul sound stars stood swan's nest sweet sword tell TENNYSON thee things thought Titans took verb verse voice waves wild wind wonderful words Wordsworth
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Сторінка 60 - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind, The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, 70 Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learned to stray; Along the cool sequestered vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Сторінка 17 - And I had done a hellish thing, And it would work 'em woe: For all averred I had killed the bird That made the breeze to blow.
Сторінка 19 - We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow.
Сторінка 20 - Her lips were red, her looks were free, Her locks were yellow as gold: Her skin was as white as leprosy, The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she, Who thicks man's blood with cold. The naked hulk alongside came, And the twain were casting dice; "The game is done! I've won! I've won!
Сторінка 22 - The village smithy stands ; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands ; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
Сторінка 23 - Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low.
Сторінка 24 - More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend ? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
Сторінка 59 - 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 21 - What is it thou hast seen? or what hast heard?' And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere : ' I heard the water lapping on the crag, And the long ripple washing in the reeds.
Сторінка 28 - But yet his horse was not a whit Inclined to tarry there ; For why ? — his owner had a house Full ten miles off, at Ware. So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an archer strong ; So did he fly — which brings me to The middle of my song. Away went Gilpin out of breath, And sore against his will, Till at his friend the calender's His horse at last stood still.