The Open Road: A Little Book for WayfarersH. Holt, 1909 - 325 стор. |
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Сторінка 21
... delight anear , From morrow to morrow , from year to year . A jack - o ' - lantern , a fairy fire , A dare , a bliss , and a desire ! The racy smell of the forest loam , When the stealthy , sad - heart leaves go home ; ( O leaves , O ...
... delight anear , From morrow to morrow , from year to year . A jack - o ' - lantern , a fairy fire , A dare , a bliss , and a desire ! The racy smell of the forest loam , When the stealthy , sad - heart leaves go home ; ( O leaves , O ...
Сторінка 67
... delight— A shepherdess of sheep . She holds her little thoughts in sight , Though gay they run and leap . She is so circumspect and right ; She has her soul to keep . She walks the lady of my delight- A shepherdess of sheep . Alice ...
... delight— A shepherdess of sheep . She holds her little thoughts in sight , Though gay they run and leap . She is so circumspect and right ; She has her soul to keep . She walks the lady of my delight- A shepherdess of sheep . Alice ...
Сторінка 68
... delight , O more than human bliss , With her to live that ever loving is ! To hear her speak whose words are so well placed That she by them , as they in her are graced ! Those looks to view that feast the viewer's eye , 68.
... delight , O more than human bliss , With her to live that ever loving is ! To hear her speak whose words are so well placed That she by them , as they in her are graced ! Those looks to view that feast the viewer's eye , 68.
Сторінка 69
... With double sound and single Delight our lips would mingle , With kisses glad as birds are That get sweet rain at noon ; If I were what the words are And love were like the tune . If you were life , my darling , And I 69.
... With double sound and single Delight our lips would mingle , With kisses glad as birds are That get sweet rain at noon ; If I were what the words are And love were like the tune . If you were life , my darling , And I 69.
Сторінка 74
... delight , Though the room be poor indeed . Give a man a girl he can love , As I , O my love , love thee ; And his heart is great with the pulse of Fate , At home , on land , on sea . James Thomson . The Message of the March Wind ...
... delight , Though the room be poor indeed . Give a man a girl he can love , As I , O my love , love thee ; And his heart is great with the pulse of Fate , At home , on land , on sea . James Thomson . The Message of the March Wind ...
Загальні терміни та фрази
A. E. Housman Alice Meynell beauty behold birds bliss blow blue boughs breath bright brown clouds dance dark dear delight Dost doth dream E. V. Lucas earth evemen eyes fair flocks flowers fresh GARDEN Gervase Markham Goddés fay grass green grey H. C. Beeching happy hath hear heart heaven Heigh trolollie lollie Jack John Keats Kenneth Grahame kiss land leaves light live look lover Marna Matthew Arnold meadows merry moon morning mountain murmur never night numbers o'er pass Percy Bysshe Shelley Poems river road round sheep Shepherd shine silent sing sleep smiles soft song soul spring stars stream sweet thee ther thine things thou art thought trees trolollie lollie loe voice vrom W. B. Yeats walk wander waves wild William Barnes William Wordsworth wind wood zunny woodlands
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 102 - I am the daughter of Earth and Water, And the nursling of the Sky ; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores ; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when with never a stain, The pavilion of heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams, Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.
Сторінка 197 - Where throngs of knights and barons bold In weeds of peace high triumphs hold, 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.
Сторінка 231 - Shaped by himself with newly-learned art; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral; And this hath now his heart, And unto this he frames his song: Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little Actor cons another part; Filling from time to time his "humorous stage...
Сторінка 228 - No more shall grief of mine the season wrong ; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the. fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay ; Land and Sea Give themselves up to jollity...
Сторінка 201 - THE SOLITARY REAPER. BEHOLD her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass ! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass ! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen ! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Сторінка 95 - mid the steep sky's commotion, Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, Shook from the tangled boughs of heaven and ocean, Angels of rain and lightning ! there are spread On the blue surface of thine airy surge, Like the bright hair uplifted from the head Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height, The locks of the approaching storm.
Сторінка 55 - For nature then (The coarser pleasures of my boyish days, And their glad animal movements all gone by) To me was all in all. — I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love...
Сторінка 308 - I'd rather be A pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea ; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
Сторінка 124 - I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; Pray so ; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too : When you do dance, I wish you A wave o...
Сторінка iv - One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can. Sweet is the lore which Nature brings; Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things: — We murder to dissect. Enough of Science and of Art; Close up those barren leaves; Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives.