Golden leaves from the works of poets and painters, ed. by R. BellRobert Bell 1872 |
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Сторінка 27
... soul doth rise , Doth ask a drink divine : But might I of Jove's nectar sup , I would not change for thine . I sent thee late a rosy wreath , Not so much honouring thee , As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be ; But ...
... soul doth rise , Doth ask a drink divine : But might I of Jove's nectar sup , I would not change for thine . I sent thee late a rosy wreath , Not so much honouring thee , As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be ; But ...
Сторінка 32
... her tokens , think not on her words ; But take some book , whose learned womb affords Physic for souls ; there search for some relief To guile the time , and rid away thy grief . JOHN FLETCHER . 1579-1625 . THE MORNING CALL . SHEPHERDS. 32.
... her tokens , think not on her words ; But take some book , whose learned womb affords Physic for souls ; there search for some relief To guile the time , and rid away thy grief . JOHN FLETCHER . 1579-1625 . THE MORNING CALL . SHEPHERDS. 32.
Сторінка 41
... soul I'll pour unto thee . THE BRACELET . TO JULIA . WHY I tie about thy wrist , Julia , this my silken twist ; For what other reason is ' t , ROBERT HERRICK . But to show thee how in part 41 E 17 O'NEIL, LADY HENRIETTA Verses written ...
... soul I'll pour unto thee . THE BRACELET . TO JULIA . WHY I tie about thy wrist , Julia , this my silken twist ; For what other reason is ' t , ROBERT HERRICK . But to show thee how in part 41 E 17 O'NEIL, LADY HENRIETTA Verses written ...
Сторінка 45
... up of odours , burneth in her breast . Who therein would not consume His soul to ash - heaps in the rich perfume ? Bestroking fate the while He burns to embers on the pile . GEORGE HERBERT . 1593-1632 . VIRTUE . SWEET day ! 45.
... up of odours , burneth in her breast . Who therein would not consume His soul to ash - heaps in the rich perfume ? Bestroking fate the while He burns to embers on the pile . GEORGE HERBERT . 1593-1632 . VIRTUE . SWEET day ! 45.
Сторінка 46
... soul , Like seasoned timber , never gives , But , though the whole world turns to coal , Then chiefly lives . CONVERSATION . IF thou be master - gunner , spend not all That thou canst speak at once ; but husband it , And give men turns ...
... soul , Like seasoned timber , never gives , But , though the whole world turns to coal , Then chiefly lives . CONVERSATION . IF thou be master - gunner , spend not all That thou canst speak at once ; but husband it , And give men turns ...
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Golden Leaves from the Works of Poets and Painters, Ed. by R. Bell Robert Bell Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2019 |
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ABRAHAM COWLEY BAUCIS AND PHILEMON beam beauty beneath bird blessed Bouillabaisse bowers breast breath bright charm cheek churchyard clouds dancing dark DAVID MACBETH MOIR dead dear deep delight doth dreams earth eyes fair fairy flowers gaze grace grave Greatbach green groves hand hath hear heart heaven hill JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS JOHN MILTON JONATHAN SWIFT lady land light live lonely look Lord Love's lyre maid MARK AKENSIDE moon morn mountain muse ne'er never night nymph o'er PATIENT GRISSEL pride Radclyffe RICHARD LOVELACE ROBERT HERRICK rose round sche shade shepherd shining shore sigh sight silent sing SIR JOSEPH ARNOULD sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit stars Stothard stream sweet thee thine thou art thought toil trees Twas unto vale voice wandering wave weep wild winds wings wirra-sthru woods young youth
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 102 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Сторінка 49 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.
Сторінка 41 - When youth and blood are warmer: But being spent. the worse. and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy. but use your time. And while ye may go marry: For having lost but once your prime.
Сторінка 55 - And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength, And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings. Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, By whispering winds soon lulled asleep.
Сторінка 166 - But hark ! a rap comes gently to the door ; Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, Tells how a neebor lad cam' o'er the moor, To do some errands, and convoy her hame. The wily mother sees the conscious flame Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek ; With heart-struck anxious care, inquires his name, While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak : Weel pleased the mother hears it's nae wild, worthless rake. Wi...
Сторінка 44 - SWEET Day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die. Sweet Rose, whose hue angry and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My Music shows ye have your closes, And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like season'd timber, never gives ; But though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly...
Сторінка 21 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no ! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Сторінка 254 - But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow, But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow. 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 110 - midst its dreary dells, Whose walls more awful nod By thy religious gleams. Or if chill blustering winds, or driving rain, Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut, That from the mountain's side, Views wilds, and swelling floods, And hamlets brown, and dim-discovered spires, And hears their simple bell, and marks o'er all Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil.
Сторінка 216 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden, saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.