The Poetical Works of Alfred TennysonJ. R. Osgood, 1877 - 365 стор. |
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... never 39 Supposed Confessions of a Second - rate Sen- weep 331 sitive Mind not in Unity with Itself .. 256 The Burial of Love ... 258 " Have ye not seen the buoyant orb ? " The Exile's Harp .... 331 331 Το Song .. 258 258 " Why should ...
... never 39 Supposed Confessions of a Second - rate Sen- weep 331 sitive Mind not in Unity with Itself .. 256 The Burial of Love ... 258 " Have ye not seen the buoyant orb ? " The Exile's Harp .... 331 331 Το Song .. 258 258 " Why should ...
Сторінка 26
... Never , never more Shall lone none see the morning mist Sweep thro ' them ; never see them overlaid With narrow moon - lit slips of silver cloud , Between the loud stream and the trembling stars . " O mother , hear me yet before I die ...
... Never , never more Shall lone none see the morning mist Sweep thro ' them ; never see them overlaid With narrow moon - lit slips of silver cloud , Between the loud stream and the trembling stars . " O mother , hear me yet before I die ...
Сторінка 27
... never child be born of me , Unblest , to vex me with his father's eyes ! " O mother , hear me yet before I die . Hear me , O earth . I will not die alone , Lest their shrill happy laughter come to me Walking the cold and starless road ...
... never child be born of me , Unblest , to vex me with his father's eyes ! " O mother , hear me yet before I die . Hear me , O earth . I will not die alone , Lest their shrill happy laughter come to me Walking the cold and starless road ...
Сторінка 31
... never wake , If you do not call me loud when the day begins to break : But I must gather knots of flowers , and buds and garlands gay , For I'm to be Queen o ' the May , mother , I'm to be Queen o ' the May . As I came up the valley ...
... never wake , If you do not call me loud when the day begins to break : But I must gather knots of flowers , and buds and garlands gay , For I'm to be Queen o ' the May , mother , I'm to be Queen o ' the May . As I came up the valley ...
Сторінка 33
... never see me more in the long gray fields at night ; When from the dry dark wold the summer airs blow cool On the oat - grass and the sword - grass , and the bulrush in the pool . You'll bury me , my mother , just beneath the hawthorn ...
... never see me more in the long gray fields at night ; When from the dry dark wold the summer airs blow cool On the oat - grass and the sword - grass , and the bulrush in the pool . You'll bury me , my mother , just beneath the hawthorn ...
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Aldwyth answer'd arms Arthur ask'd Bagenhall beneath blood breath brother brow Caerleon call'd Camelot child cried Dagonet dark dead dear death dream Dubric earth Edith England ev'n Excalibur eyes face fair father fear fire flower Gardiner Gareth Gawain glory golden Gorlois grace Guinevere hall hand Harold hate hath hear heard heart heaven holy King King Arthur kiss knew Lady Lady of Shalott Lancelot land Lavaine Leofwin light live look look'd Lord LORD WILLIAM HOWARD Mary Merlin Morcar morn mother never night noble o'er once Philip Prince Queen Renard rose round seem'd shadow shame Sir Bedivere Sir Lancelot Sir Pelleas sleep smile song soul spake speak star stept Stigand stood sweet tears thee thine things thou art thou hast thought thro Tostig turn'd vext voice weep wild wind
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Сторінка 35 - O look ! the sun begins to rise, the heavens are in a glow; He shines upon a hundred fields, and all of them I know. And there I move no longer now, and there his light may shine — Wild flowers in the valley for other hands than mine.
Сторінка 91 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory, Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Сторінка 126 - THERE rolls the deep where grew the tree. O earth, what changes hast thou seen! There where the long street roars, hath been The stillness of the central sea. The hills are shadows, and they flow From form to form, and nothing stands; They melt like mist, the solid lands, Like clouds they shape themselves and go.
Сторінка 58 - We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven ; that which we are, we are ; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
Сторінка 88 - Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon...
Сторінка 107 - Calm and deep peace on this high wold, And on these dews that drench the furze, And all the silvery gossamers That twinkle into green and gold : Calm and still light on yon great plain That sweeps with all its autumn bowers, And crowded farms and lessening towers, To mingle with the bounding main : Calm and deep peace in this wide air, These leaves that redden to the fall ; And in my heart, if calm at all, If any calm, a calm despair : Calm on the seas, and silver sleep, And waves that sway themselves...
Сторінка 151 - Dropt to the cove, and watch'd the great sea fall, Wave after wave, each mightier than the last, Till last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame : And down the wave and in the flame was borne A naked babe, and rode to Merlin's feet, Who stoopt and caught the babe, and cried "The King ! Here is an heir for Uther...
Сторінка 142 - I wind about and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout, And here and there a grayling; And here and there a foamy flake Upon me, as I travel With many a silvery waterbreak Above the golden gravel, And draw them all along, and flow To join the brimming river; For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
Сторінка 217 - I live three lives of mortal men, So great a miracle as yonder hilt. Then with both hands I flung him, wheeling him; But when I look'd again, behold an arm, Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, That caught him by the hilt, and brandish'd him Three times, and drew him under in the mere.
Сторінка 58 - And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move.