Favourite English poems and poets1870 - 672 стор. |
З цієї книги
Результати 6-10 із 55
Сторінка 62
... nature of decay , Tell friendship of unkindness , Tell justice of delay : And if they will reply , Then give them all the lie . Tell arts they have no soundness , But vary by esteeming ; Tell schools they want profoundness , And stand ...
... nature of decay , Tell friendship of unkindness , Tell justice of delay : And if they will reply , Then give them all the lie . Tell arts they have no soundness , But vary by esteeming ; Tell schools they want profoundness , And stand ...
Сторінка 82
... nature him had markt of purpose , t ' let us see That from all other birds his tunes should different be : For , with their vocal sounds , they sing to pleasant May ; Upon his dulcet pipe the merle doth only play . When in the lower ...
... nature him had markt of purpose , t ' let us see That from all other birds his tunes should different be : For , with their vocal sounds , they sing to pleasant May ; Upon his dulcet pipe the merle doth only play . When in the lower ...
Сторінка 83
... Nature ( by her all - constraining law ) Each bird to her own kind this season doth invite , They else alone to hear that charmer of the night , ( The more to use their ears , ) their voices sure would spare , That moduleth her tunes so ...
... Nature ( by her all - constraining law ) Each bird to her own kind this season doth invite , They else alone to hear that charmer of the night , ( The more to use their ears , ) their voices sure would spare , That moduleth her tunes so ...
Сторінка 88
... Nature all that I in rhyme have writ ; And to my company my wit : Thou , Love , by making me adore Her who begot this love in me before , Taught'st me to make as though I gave , when I do but restore . To him for whom the passing bell ...
... Nature all that I in rhyme have writ ; And to my company my wit : Thou , Love , by making me adore Her who begot this love in me before , Taught'st me to make as though I gave , when I do but restore . To him for whom the passing bell ...
Сторінка 90
... nature hath assign'd : Though much I want that most would have , Yet still my mind forbids to crave . No princely port , nor wealthy store , Nor force to win a victory ; Nor wily wit to salve a sore , No shape to win a loving eye ; To ...
... nature hath assign'd : Though much I want that most would have , Yet still my mind forbids to crave . No princely port , nor wealthy store , Nor force to win a victory ; Nor wily wit to salve a sore , No shape to win a loving eye ; To ...
Інші видання - Показати все
Загальні терміни та фрази
a-thynkynge beauty beneath bird BIRKET FOSTER blow born breast breath bright CHRISTOPHER MARLOW clouds CRESWICK dead dear death delight died doth dream E. H. WEHNERT E. M. WIMPERIS earth eyes Faerie Queene fair fame favourite fear flowers gentle GEORGE THOMAS glory grace grave green grief groves GUSTAVE Doré happy HARRISON WEIR hath hear heard heart heaven hill honour Hudibras Inchcape Rock JOHN GILBERT JOSHUA SYLVESTER King lady light live Lochaber look Lord Lute Lycidas merry mind morn mother ne'er never night Nightingale o'er Palie Piers Ploughman pleasure poem poet poetry praise pray Queen rise rose round sche seem'd shade shepherd sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound swain tears tell thee thine thou art thought Twas voice waves weary Westminster Abbey wild wind youth
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 318 - Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay. Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; A breath can make them, as a breath has made : But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroy'd, can never be supplied.
Сторінка 307 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his fav'rite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; 'The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn:' THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Сторінка 304 - Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply : And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er...
Сторінка 582 - And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold. Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the Presence in the room he said, " What writest thou ?" The Vision raised its head, And with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, " The names of those who love the Lord." " And is mine one ? " said Abou. " Nay, not so,
Сторінка 70 - FEAR no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o...
Сторінка 419 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket...
Сторінка 301 - Await alike th' inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Сторінка 299 - 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 494 - Are those her ribs through which the Sun, Did peer, as through a grate ? And is that Woman all her crew ? Is that a DEATH ? and are there two ? Is DEATH that woman's mate ? 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 ! " Quoth she, and whistles thrice.
Сторінка 552 - Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie Thy Soul's immensity ; Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind, That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep, Haunted for ever by the eternal mind, — Mighty Prophet ! Seer blest ! On whom those truths do rest, Which we are toiling all our lives to find, In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave ; Thou, over whom thy Immortality Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave, A Presence which is not to be put by ;...